


Paths afire

by Ruiniel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asfaloth - Freeform, Drama, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fall of Gondolin, Falling In Love, First Age Gondolin references, Gen, Glorfindel is a biker, Gondolin, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Middle Earth, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Other, POV Original Character, Reincarnation, Rivendell | Imladris, Romance, Sauron Being an Asshole, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow burn but not too slow, across lifetimes, elves having tasteful sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 59,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruiniel/pseuds/Ruiniel
Summary: Ilva is a feisty, self-deprecating young woman in a horrible rut, struggling to make ends meet after one too many lemons life throws her way. Things take a different turn when she crosses paths with the haughty, sarcastic and not a little confusing biker that is Fin.AU - starts in modern times, lands in Middle-earth. Glorfindel/OC.DISCLAIMER: This fan fiction is intended for personal, non-commercial use only. No copyright infringement is intended.





	1. Cover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover:
> 
> Comet Unknown (Starburst)
> 
> Anonymous, 1587


	2. Chapter 2

The lights flicked green. The mass of people spilled over the crossing in a torrent, flooding the street in endless swarms. Each with their eyes glued to their device of choice, trudging on like drones programmed for their destination. No one looked anyone in the eye.

Ilva sighed in frustration. "Another day, another dollar_,_" she said aloud, her eyes on the human wall before her. Even at this early hour, there was traffic, bustle, and chaos. The radio was playing a trendy tune, grilling to her ears. Annoyed and pre-caffeinated, the young woman changed the audio source to her Spotify account. The winding sounds of Tool's '10 000 days' blasted through the speakers.

To say she was not looking forward to another day at the office was the understatement of the century. Not a hard feat, when you were cooped up with ever blinking electronics, bad air conditioning, and Mark.

_Fucking Mark._ The brown-noser, by Ilva's reckoning either way, was always on her case. He was a senior and ever since Ilvana joined the team he had been watching her, jumping and eagerly pointing out each and every mistake. _'We don't do that here', _was his favorite line. This corporate job was starting to grate on her daily mood and quality of life, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to tune herself out of it. Underpaid and stressful, it was still the sole means to pay rent and make ends meet in the big city. The daily commute, normally a thirty-minute ride, usually took over an hour with this traffic.

These damn stockings were itchy. Why was she wearing them again? Oh right, a customer visit. She unconsciously straightened the hem of her white shirt. _Shitkickers._

Ilvana propped her head against the steering wheel. It had been only yesterday that Aaron left. He had gathered all his things afore time but left her the vinyls. An even split, he said. He took the pickup player. She barely ever listened to those records, always on the run as she was. Her ex made a habit of picking on her preference for the digital, calling it torture of the eardrums. _Prick._

As one can tell, she was bitter. Still, Ilvana couldn't help thinking it should hurt more. After all, she and Aaron had been engaged for nearly five years. They had made plans, as every couple does in the best of times. But like with most everything else in her life recently, all the young woman felt was, well, numb. No grand scope or direction, no godly signs-

Someone honked her from behind, taking Ilva out of her impromptu reverie. The traffic lights turned green for her lane, and she had yet to move.

"Alright already, lay off!" she fumed into the visor, going into gear and hitting the pedal.

Grey clouds littered the sky, engulfing the buildings and concrete jungle of the city in an even grimmer view.

_An escape, a fucking escape..._ her mind urged. _Where are those abducting aliens when you need them? _she chimed to herself. _Here's Ilvana Day, your willing test subject. Take any samples you like as long as you leave my holes be and show me your spacey backyard._ _After all, there are worse things people would do for a free ride through the galaxy._

A downpour started right in the middle of those erudite thoughts.

Thirty minutes and three honks later she finally reached the underground parking. Ilvana hastily looked at her phone. 8:10 AM.

She was late, and Al would look at her funny again, then Mark would take the chance to make some half-assed comment. Grabbing her laptop bag she ran to the elevator, pulling down her skirt as she went.

'Out of Order.'

"Damnit! The long way around it is then," she grumbled to herself, hurrying towards the exit. It was still pouring hard outside and the entrance to the office building faced the main street. She ran around the structure, her blazer atop her head in place of an umbrella, slipping once or twice on her high heels. Just as Ilvana was about to reach the sliding doors a fast-moving car went by, wheels splashing water all over the sidewalk. Her legs and green pencil skirt got the full New York treatment. Dirty wet patches were now visible and dripping down her legs in a mock caress.

"This day just keeps getting better." But there was no time for whining. She would try and clean up after she showed face.

Ilva soon reached the eighteenth floor where the technical support and programming departments were located, fumbling with her access card. She strode in and half-heartedly greeting her colleagues. She had long noticed the people huddled together in this soul-sucking space were not a coordinated team nor had any sort of connection, not in the true sense of the word. And the young woman always garnered the impression most were treating each other with just barely enough respect to be able to do their jobs. She let herself drop heavily into her chair, hurriedly placing her laptop on the desk and locking it in the docking station.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

_Great._ Slowly, she turned around.

"Late again, Daily Mail? Two calls dropped because there was no one on the German line. We _are _a 24/7 call center, after all."

Ultimate jerk. She had asked him, countless times before, rather politely, not to call her that. And did someone make him team lead then forgot to tell her? Ilvana ran her hand through her curly hair, now a puffy mess from the humidity and rain. "Hey Mark, listen-"

"Luckily, I was available and took care of it. You're welcome by the way," he smirked. His eyes trailed to her legs. "Had some fun in the rain?"

She gritted her teeth and ignored the jab. "I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Not even started working and you're taking a break? If I were you-"

She ignored the rambling man, successfully managing to bite back the 'Fuck off' dancing on the tip of her tongue as she got up and headed to the bathroom. Once inside a stall she removed her soiled stockings and pulled her skirt back on. _Never liked these anyway_. The dirty water splotches were starting to dry on the green material. Some looked suspiciously like motor oil.

Ilvana groaned. "Let the saga continue..." she muttered as to an invisible audience, taking a deep breath before exiting the bathroom.

She had barely been at her desk for thirty minutes when her boss, Al, came over.

"Hey," his baritone voice reached her.

Ilvana blinked, removing her headset. _What now? _He looked uncomfortable, hand on his hip, fingers tapping. Al never looked uncomfortable. Not in the whole year and a half she'd worked here. Curiosity peaked. "Hey Al, what's going on?"

"I need a word. In my office?" he asked and gestured to the back of the open space.

"Sure, of course." This was new. Al didn't like secrets and closed office shades. He would work with people separately on their personal growth but usually preferred the open space for a team talk. What could he want with her?

Once inside her manager motioned for Ilva to take a seat. Once she did he faced her but remained standing, arms spread with palms flat against his desk.

She was beginning to feel uneasy.

Al looked at his employee for a brief moment before opening his mouth to speak. "Look, Ilva. I took you on with no prior experience. You knew when we started hiring for this project that it had a limited lifecycle."

"Yes, two years deployment and another four of services support." _How the hell did I end up choking on corporate lingo? Should wash my mouth out with a toilet brush._

"Right. But back then the financial situation was different. The company isn't doing so well Ilva, and our corporate overlords have decided to cut costs by cutting people. They're moving part of the project support services to Poland."

"Part of it."

"And they also asked to cut headcount in all the major office hubs. This team makes twelve people and has to go down to six."

Suddenly it was very hot in that freaking office. She felt her cheeks flush. Apparently, this day could, indeed, get worse. "What are you trying to say, Al?" she choked.

Ok. This was not so bad. Ilvana quickly ran through her expenses. She had no savings to speak of, a student loan the size of Manhattan to pay off, and she was now paying rent by herself for an uptown apartment she mainly slept in. _Fuck._

"I'm sorry Ilva. There's no easy way to say this. I can't afford to keep you on. I have to keep the more senior ones and let the rest go. You'll have to... get your things," he rubbed the back of his head.

"I need this job." She looked at him. _What, down to begging now? Damn, pull yourself together Day._

Al looked to his hands.

Nodding, she wordlessly rose from the chair. "It's fine though because you're _sorry_. Bye Al," she muttered and left his office, throwing the door shut for good measure.

People lost jobs all the time. She was still young, twenty-eight was still young by general market standards. She would find another place to toil and scrape in. It did her no good working here anyway. This stifling environment made her sick to her stomach. Ilvana had come to a point where every morning she debated whether she really, really needed this job.

She would find something else in no time. She was fluent in German, and surely had other marketable skills she wasn't even aware of. She was an art graduate.

She was royally screwed.

"Daily Mail, where are you off to? Finally got sick of us?" Mark called, a stress ball in one hand as he rolled over in his chair, eyes roaming shamelessly over her rounded bottom.

She threw the box containing her few things down onto the desk and whirled around, one slender, black nail polished finger pointed at him.

"Fuck - off - _Mark_! You _and_ your greasy hair."

His mouth dropped open, as did the others' who were within earshot and heard her outburst. She could feel their disapproving stares on her. Ilvana was usually composed and sociable with everyone albeit not excessively, and now her cursing seemed all the more surprising in the usual silence. A phone rang somewhere as she stared them down. Then she lost it.

"Oh- please; Like you stiff, carrot-up-my-ass, gossip-in-the-kitchenette corp dweebs ever say anything nicer behind others' backs! Not that I've been listening!"

With this, she grabbed her car keys even as the security guard appeared to escort her out of the building. Ilvana huffed, taking her belongings and pacing away with as much dignity and confidence as she could muster. Which, admittedly, was not much, but she'll be damned if she'd let them see it.

When Ilva reached her apartment, heavy shopping bags in hand, she barely opened the door when something black and furry sprung between her ankles.

"No, Nox- darn it!" she cursed before she tripped, falling face front into the hallway. Groceries sprawled all over the corridor into the living room while Nox the cat carelessly nuzzled in her hair, mewling softly.

The eggs she bought fell out of the grocery bag and were cracked all over the floor. Nox trudged through the egg yolk, treading onto the living room carpet as if nothing had gone down. The cat then started licking her paws, completely oblivious of her master.

She stood there for a good few minutes, unable to move, forehead banging in frustration against the parquet. Why the fuck did Aaron insist on this expensive crap? He always liked nice things, dear things. He came from a completely different background to hers, rich uptown boy, rebelling from an old New York family, with none too overbearing parents. In contrast, she never knew her real parents. She had been raised by her foster parents, having been orphaned as a toddler. They adopted her in Scotland then moved to Germany when she was ten. Finally, when her foster father received a better offer they picked up and moved continent, to the US. When their financial situation went down, they moved out of the big city to a smaller town in New York State. She returned to New York City for College, where she and Aaron met. She had been exposed to the better things in life, but never felt truly at ease if she were honest with herself. Maybe that was another reason why it hadn't worked between her and Aaron. She had probably been one of those nice things he liked and enjoyed for a while, and he did treat her right at the beginning. They both had. Until for some reason or other, their differences only grew, until life was nothing but work and little time spent together, and most of it arguing. The fire grew cold between them and none felt keen to delve into those plans they once had. It was like this by the time he decided to move on. At least he had been honest about it.

Great, she missed the bugger. That tall, blue-eyed, black-haired asshat!

Ilvana rose heavily into a sitting position, her face in her hands. "Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't..." she repeated even as unwieldy sobs wracked her frame.

The phone rang and she let it, not even looking at who it was as it was thrown onto the sofa.

_I need a shower_.

When she was done Ilvana looked into the bathroom mirror. Long lashed hazel eyes were red-rimmed, freckled nose wrinkling. She had shades under her eyes, which only grew darker with each day she'd spent in that place. Long, wet curly auburn hair stuck to her head.

The phone rang again. With an exasperated sigh, she paced out of the bathroom.

It was her friend, Myra. They hadn't seen each other in over two weeks, owing to different responsibilities and never finding time to just sit down and smell the freaking roses. Like they used to. Ever the life of the party, one hung out with Myra at their own peril. She knew, somehow, exactly how to get each and every person she met the appropriate amount of smashed. They were once part of a high school group of friends, all united by a common preference for angry music and mischief. Disenfranchised angsty youths. Punks, goths, metalheads, they went through some of these phases or all of the above. Most came from broken families, the outskirts of society. Others were kids from good families whose need for attention drove them to the strangest deeds. The kind of cases you heard about on the news. She had been drawn to them, finding them kindred spirits of sorts. A lot of them did not end well. Drugs were partly the cause. But the two women remained friends and at times still hung out in the same or similar places, for old times' sake, for a feeling of familiarity and belonging.

Though adult life had brought about a few changes. Her piercings were fewer than before. She definitely lost the brow and nose ones, as well as the heavy make up. She hadn't gotten a new tattoo in a couple of years, though she already had her chest and back inked. At times she missed her turbulent, rebellious years. When she didn't desperately need a job to pay the rent and afford sustenance. _I was dumb as a rock back then, though._

"'Sup Witch?" Myra's voice brought her out of her ramblings. The cow still used her high school nickname. She smiled briefly.

"Hey, Myr."

"Do you remember that Highly Suspect concert I was badgering you about last month? I eventually did get you a ticket. So unless you've forgotten, we have a date."

There was a pause.

"Earth to Ilva, you in or not?"

"Uhm... I don't know, I-"

"You sound like an empty casket. Something up?"

"Nope," she didn't care to hide. "Everything's... pretty down actually."

"Meaning? Spill it Ilva."

"I kind of got fired today."

A snorting sound was heard on the other end. "Is that all?'

"Aaron broke up with me."

"Oh. Well, all this is precisely why you have to come to that concert. It'll help. I'll help."

"I'm tired."

"And sixty years of age? Move your butt out of that fancy apartment and have a drink with me. Or ten, doesn't matter. We'll fix you up. So, you're coming?"

"You'll just run off with the first pair of tight buttocks come your way and leave me high and dry."

"You're right on the high part."

"Myra, if I end up a pissy heap in some bar toilet, I blame _you,_" she grumbled.

"Fine. I take full responsibility. Now move, the concert starts at 9 PM."

"I have a feeling I'll regret this," Ilva sighed. She would later ponder on the foreboding quality of those words.


	3. Chapter 3

"This joint is _packed," _Ilva whined as the two women paid the entrance fee of the gritty bar the concert was to take place in. To say it was filled with the most colorful characters was an understatement.

"Hold on to your purse mkay?" Myra said, her eyes on the crowd as they made their way to the bar for a drink.

"Never knew you had a mom streak in you."

"Shut up. So what're we having?" the black-haired woman asked, tapping her palms against the bar. "Start us off with some tequila?"

Ilva sighed. "Why not. I've done everything else today."

"Ok listen Ilva. Tonight is not for whining. Tonight is for _wining, _if you get my drift."

"Please lay off the puns."

"Sorry. But could you at least _try_ to enjoy yourself and forget about whats-his-face? For me? His loss. You're too hot for him anyway."

Like that should ever matter. "Thanks."

They downed their tequila shots. "Two more please!" Myra called, two fingers up.

Down went the second round. Warmth filled her, and she looked around the bar and its inhabitants. A stage was set to the back of the long hall, the bar at the front. All the gear and utensils were set up while the band worked on the finishing touches.

After the third shot she ordered some water. _At least get smashed properly._

"Hey, I'm off to the restroom, be right back," she told Myra after a while, eyes rolling as she saw her friend eyeing some dude with the most obvious fuck-me look on her face. "Be good."

Ilvana stumbled through the crowd, getting stomped on her feet one too many times. _Thank you Dr. Martens,_ she mumbled to herself, thankful for having taken her trusty boots right before she was forcefully shoved from somewhere. "Fucking hell!" she ground out angrily, turning around to give whoever did it a piece of her mind. Bad idea, as her legs were still on the move for some reason, and she herself stumbled none too gently into something hard.

"Argh, sorr-!" she propped her hands automatically against what she saw was a leather-clad chest. She looked up since the someone she crashed into was quite tall. Her words stuck to her tongue. Long, very light-colored wavy hair framed the brightest crystals for eyes she had ever seen. Her palms were propped against a black biker jacket, the leather soft under her fingers. For some reason, the people and movement around her seemed to slow.

The vision looked down on her airily, with what looked like strong annoyance on his features. "Excuse me," came a low melodic voice. That was not a New York accent. She blinked and moved from his way hastily. _Jesus, Ilva. Are you that horny that just anyone would have an effect on you tonight? _Admittedly, it had been months. Aaron stopped touching her that way a while ago, claiming tiredness, work, anything really. Not that she had insisted either way. Her own sex drive had dropped down to Siberian temperatures as the stress of everyday life and worries took its place. She could not help but look around. No more sign of the angelic biker figure, having been swallowed by the crowd it seemed. With a shake of the head, she moved on.

_Ok, no more tequila for me tonight._ Studying herself in the chipped full-length bathroom mirror, Ilvana slumped her shoulders forward. She wore a casual black dress that hugged her waist and rounded hips, ending just above the knee. Matte dark grey stockings complemented the look along with a pair of Dr Martens boots fastened around slender ankles. A regular no flash concert get-up. Her chest tattoo barely peaked through the boat neck of her dress and curly auburn locks spilled past her shoulders, framing an oval but rather tired-looking face. She skipped the makeup, her general state not inclined towards dolling up.

So she supposed she had won the genetic lottery, by general standards. Not that it had counted for shit with Aaron. He was never the type to voice his affection too profusely. Ilvana considered how she never expected it of him either, not being the type to adhere to generally accepted cultural norms. But now that she thought about it, Ilva had no idea if there was any part of her he particularly _had_ liked; apart from their somewhat pleasant companionship, at first. He never really said anything. _Silence, brain!,_ Ilvana shook her head as she left for the stage where the beating of drums and a greeting signaled the music was about to start. She found Myra, her friend already chatting up the not too shabby looking specimen of the male variety from earlier. _High and dry, _her mind quipped. Introductions were made and then the music ensued.

"They were not too bad. I tell you, this band will be big one day," Myra was saying afterward as they stood propped against a high standing table with their drinks.

"Be right back Myr," Sente, the male specimen said before he left them.

Ilva was staring into her drink, her chin resting in her palm.

"Oh sweet Jesus, you're depressing," Myra rolled her eyes.

The young woman sighed. "Thanks. Sorry, I warned you."

Myra left abruptly only to return, two tequila shots in each hand. "We need to drown that frown. Drink up me hearties."

"Oh, no, no-no-no. I've had enough of that stuff for tonight."

Myra grabbed her shoulder, leaning in. "Look, why don't you just shut up, gobble these up like a good little girl, and go over to that painfully hot blond dude at the bar who's been _staring_ at you for the past hour."

"Huh?" she made to look.

"Eyes on me. Don't be so obvious, this isn't high school. Now, a good shagging after a painful break up might not make you forget everything, but it sure doesn't hurt."

"Your wisdom knows no bounds," Ilva muttered, glancing towards the bar. She had to willingly smother the jolt of surprise and strange pulsing warmth that soared in her belly when she saw the same guy she stumbled into earlier, the one that locked her to the spot with his freakishly light-colored eyes. He was definitely _not_ staring at her. Elbows propped against the bar casually, lit cigarette in one hand, he was checking something on his phone. His wavy hair flowed past his shoulders, perfect light eyebrows slightly frowned in concentration. He took another puff of his cigarette.

He still wore that zipped down biker jacket revealing a chest clothed in a grey banded collar shirt, unbuttoned just below the collarbone. Waist cinched with a silver-buckled belt over black jeans, hugging strong hips and long, now casually crossed legs booted in heavy stompers.

A double take._ Oh, man._

"Someone might step on your tongue if you don't roll it back in," her friend said with a satisfied grin. "Now. Go. To. Him. If you behave I might have some goodies for you to help you loosen up later," she finished with a wink. Knowing Myra, that could only mean something illegal.

Maybe it was the Long Island Iced Tea she just finished. Maybe not. "Give me a cigarette from your pack." She didn't smoke, but somehow Ilvana felt it would help. She hadn't picked up or hit on _anything_ with a pulse in over six years. Despite the alcohol loosening her inhibitions, Ilva still felt like another crutch was needed for this endeavor.

Her friend smiled deviously, that red-lipped grin causing Ilva to frown. Her bracelets clinked and clanked as Myra made a subtly euphoric gesture with her hands. "At a girl. Make sure you lose him if he's weird. Otherwise, enjoy," she eyed Ilvana meaningfully.

Sighing, Ilva downed the tequila too. Blonds had never really been her type. Mark was a blond. Ugh. Not the image she wanted right now. But still, _he_ was... so...

Ilva struggled for the right word as she closed in on the bar, nonchalantly, she thought, draping herself onto the barstool to the left of Blond Biker Model, balancing the cigarette between slender fingers for a few moments before placing it between her lips. From the corner of her eye, she saw him slowly turn around to face the bar.

The flame of a silver Zippo flashed before her eyes, held by strong pale fingers. Ilva lit the cigarette, drawing in the smoke before the lighter disappeared with a metallic clank.

"Thanks," she exhaled, turning to look at his profile. Even in the dim lights of the establishment, she could make out the sheer golden tone of his hair_. Hell, giving me the jelly__ dabs, this one. I guess asking him about what conditioner he uses wouldn't be the best pick up line._

"You're welcome," the blond drew from his own cig, though his vision never strayed her way.

_Staring at me for the past hour... my ass. Oh well, long as I'm here..._ "One Long Island Iced Tea over here, please. And a bottle of water." _Very adult move of you, Ilva. Keeping hydrated. Good job. Shoulder pat._

"Make it on me," the blond suddenly spoke up as the bartender was preparing the drink.

"Oh that's really not necessary-" she turned to the stranger.

He finally met her stare, the most arrogant, lopsided grin Ilvana had ever seen blooming on angular, youthful features. "Isn't that why you're here?" he followed, dripping smugness that could drown the Titanic.

_What the fuck_. Was there some prickfest in town? Because they all seemed to levitate around her.

Deciding to abort and that this was a terrible idea Ilvana turned to the bartender, hastily taking out her wallet. "You know what, I'll take it."

She had just placed the sum onto the bar when his hand reached and slid the money back towards her.

"I have a tab open. Stay," the stranger said, his tone slightly changed from before. And what was that accent? It wasn't quite British, definitely not American. She should just go. She was already deflated with how this started, and not a little disgruntled with this guy's attitude. Aaron was smug too.

She hated it. Ilvana hated arrogance to her core, in everyone regardless of who they were. But then she looked to where Myra and her pick up were, now dancing a slow rock ballad, hands on each other. The joint was slowly emptying of people, regaining some breathing space.

Blond Biker was still standing facing the bar leaning on his elbows, head in his drink.

_So I'm staying. Say something? Or you want me to say something?_

He raised his head and gazed at her then, a funny knowing look in his eyes. A strange half-smile pulled at one corner of his lips.

_Is that a dimple__. __Ok, that's one creepy pair of eyes. Are they, though? Not creepy, but unnerving. Yes, that's the word_.

He looked back into his glass, the smile fading.

_How do I do this? Gender equality, here we go. Girl starts it up. Fine._

"I'm Ilvana," she offered him her hand in the casual universal 'nice to meet you' gesture. _Just like in girl scout camp. Doing great, Day._

Blond biker lifted his head from his drink again, looking her over strangely for a moment. "Why yes you are," she heard.

Ilvana gaped at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised in question. What was up with this guy? And how the hell was this place still allowed to function if it permitted smoking inside? _The owner must be a mafia boss or something._

Those deliriously bright eyes narrowed on her, the smirk still present as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He held the smoke in for a few moments before carelessly blowing it right. Into. Her face.

_Charming_.

The blond took another sip of what looked like whiskey, eyes now on their reflections in the bar mirror.

Ilvana drew her hand back. _Screw this, I'll just..._

"I'm Fin," the other said simply, still watching her in the mirror as he raised the glass to his lips.

So perfection had a name. _Easy there, cowgirl._ He could very well be the Jack The Ripper type with the kind of luck she'd been having lately.

"Is that Irish?"

"If you like," he said offhandedly.

_Ok._ "So uhm," Ilvana grasped for something else to say. _Wait a minute._ _Am I actually trying to chat up a stranger in a bar? Screw men to the moon right now. _One had just recently left her with her proverbial pants around her ankles. Ilva jumped off the barstool. "Forget it. Thanks for the drink."

The blond smoothly downed the rest of his drink before landing the glass back with a thud, saying nothing as she paced away.

She joined Myra, now chatting up three acquaintances who had made an appearance in the meantime.

"Hey, what happened? Why'd you bolt?" her friend greeted her back. When Ilva said nothing she insisted. "How was he?"

"Not interested. Myr, I'm heading home. I've had too much anyway-"

"Hey, hey hey. Wait just a minute there. It's only 1 AM. You are _not_ going home more miserable and dour than you came. Fine, the blond can take a hike. Though I tell no lies when I say he was literally drinking you in earlier. But whatever. I have something for you." And she pushed a glass half-filled with orange juice towards Ilva.

"?" dark auburn eyebrows furrowed.

Myra leaned in. "Just a bit of Molly."

"Oh, fuck that-"

"Come on, it'll just help you unwind, relax, dance, enjoy. Forget. Take up some other nice piece to dance. All you gotta do is drink plenty of water. It'll gradually wear off in a few hours or so."

The woman sighed. _Screw it. _So Ilvana took the glass and started with small sips, trying to listen in to the conversation, studiously avoiding looking towards the bar area. She'd been turned down - well, more or less- twice in a week and that was enough to make anyone's self-esteem drop down under. But after close to an hour her senses became dimmed, and all seemed right with the world. Ilva soon took Myra to dance - this joint loved its Guns N Roses ballads- and they were soon laughing and hugging each other, giggling as they sang along to 'November Rain'. She even stopped avoiding to look at the bar, and didn't feel even a little disappointed to see no one sat there now.

Soon she was dancing with someone else. Then another. She had more drinks, despite Myra telling her not to.

"Yo, don't mix anymore," the dark-haired woman added as she passed by. Ilva waved her away.

Someone was holding her tight, and it felt good. Hands were grasping her curves. Her skin felt soft as silk. She had taken this drug a couple of times before together with Aaron, but never in a public setting. It did things to you that you didn't really want sober people to see. Like wanting to hug and kiss almost anyone, and anything in sight.

Lips were ghosting her neck. She had no idea who he was, but this felt good. As if shrouded in mist Ilvana had a sense of another time when Aaron had done the same. When all was right between them. Dimly she registered Myra coming by and asking if she was alright, if she wanted to head home. Ilvana shook her head, and the other woman looked rather worryingly at the random guy grasping her friend.

"Ilva, you sure? We can take a cab together-"

"Nah, I'm good. Go Myr, and thanks for everything." She hugged the other woman before turning back to her dancing partner.

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?" her partner asked after a while. Had she been soberer she would have noticed the gleam in his eye, the garbled way he spoke. He was piss drunk.

"...sure," Ilvana spoke against his neck before kissing him deeply.

The bar was mostly empty by now, and he dragged her outside through the back entrance, hands never leaving her hips. She was pushed against the alley wall and soon his movements were quicker, sloppier.

Ilva became gradually more aware of herself as the Molly started to wear off. Suddenly she wasn't feeling so good. _Mixing is always a bad idea, you knew this. And did it anyway._

What was this guy doing? Who was he?

"Uh, hey..." Ilvana tried as he rode her dress upwards with both hands, his grip still strong on her.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" The stranger pushed himself against her, hands moving to her arms, bringing them above her head.

"What I want, is to go home," Ilvana ground out, fear taking over.

"You can go home right after, come on babe," one hand slipping from her wrists to slide between her legs, making her jump and want to scream before his hand palmed her mouth. "We'll only take a few minutes-"

The woman started to pull away struggling but he was stronger. She mumbled and screamed against his hand, unable to believe this was happening. When she bit his hand he growled and backhanded her so hard Ilvana saw stars. _Oh god, oh god. Not this. Stupid, stupid fucking stupid! _She thrashed against him with all she had, but it was not enough.

In a haze, Ilvana thought she heard someone whistle nearby. And then the prick made a gurgling sound, and his weight was no longer pressing her into the wall. Next thing she knew Ilva saw the man fallen on his back, his nose a red sputtering fountain; dazed, he up and scrambled away, running from the alley cursing.

Ilvana took a deep breath even as she slid down against the wall, arms circling her knees. Fear curling tight into her bowels. She didn't dare look up; didn't want to see who was there, who could do the same, or worse, to her.

Golden hair flooded her vision, and the scent of treated leather filled her senses as someone crouched down before her.

"Are you hurt, luv?"

She vomited.


	4. Chapter 4

"Fucking hell," Ilvana grunted as she sat propped against the alley wall, spewing the last remaining contents of her stomach. She tried to keep her hair out of her face with her other hand. She failed, and so repeatedly lost her balance.

Fingers glided lightly across her cheek and the side of her neck. Her hair was slowly being pulled back away from her face. "Next time, maybe skip one of the two," Ilva then heard his quiet voice.

_Thanks, agent Schrader._

Still, Ilva closed her eyes, wishing for the ground to swallow her whole as she recalled just barely missing throwing up all over his boots.

_Jesus Christ on a rubber crutch. Not only am I now scared shitless to hook up with anyone ever again, not only will I have the worst beast of a hangover tomorrow, but Blond Biker is here, seeing me in possibly the worst state I have been in as far as I can remember._

"Uhm, it's fine, you can..." she reached for her own hair, hand brushing over his by mistake. A tremor ran through her. "... thanks," she frowned at the strange sensation. Then suddenly remembering, Ilvana rose wobbling on her feet from the head rush and head_ache_ which was already starting to make itself known. "Shit! My purse!" she looked around frantically.

"Easy, it's here," Blond Biker said as he turned and lifted an object from the ground, handing it to her.

_Ugh, it's wet. Why is it wet? Better not be piss. _She studied the bag, which somehow seemed better than having to look at him.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Wha-?" Ilva asked as she took out a paper tissue, hastily wiping her mouth and hands.

A click and a clank was heard, and she looked up to see the blond lighting another cigarette, his head turned towards the main street.

"I asked," he intoned somewhat testily, "if you were hurt."

"Oh, uhm," she wrapped her arms around herself. _What's it to you? _"Cunt slapped me and it'll leave a mark, but I'm fine, everything considered."

He turned to look at her, expression blank, eyes glistening catlike in the faint alley lights. "Need a ride out of here?"

_Oh, going off with a complete stranger after a near-rape would definitely be anyone's first choice._

Her head felt funny, and suddenly Ilvana was very drowsy. She stumbled forward "No, I-"

Hands on her arms were steadying her. "Take it easy luv."

"Don't call me that, thanks," she pried herself from his hold. "What were you doing here anyway? Thought you'd left." The moment the words left her mouth Ilva mentally slapped herself. _Good going Day, now he'll think I was stalking him or something. Which I wasn't._ She placed her palm to her head.

_Ensue headache._

"I had my Harley parked round the corner, and was heading there when I heard you."

She looked towards said corner. It was far away, so far in fact that no one would have heard anything going on here, let alone her muffled whimpering. _Oh-kaaay. Definitely sensing something amiss here._ Ilvana raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically with her arms crossed.

He stared back, unfazed, taking another drag of his cig.

_Smokes like a chimney. Probably tastes like one too. OK, and you currently smell of throw up, Ilvana. I said shut UP, brain._

"So are you coming, or taking a nap here in the alley?" he asked tiredly.

_Jerk._

"Listen- Flynn, was it?"

That well defined jaw tightened. "Fin."

"Listen _Fin, _we all have our days and days, and after the past twenty-four hours I've had, I'm done tempting fate. So I'll just take a cab home."

He flicked the stub off into the alley, not sparing her another glance. "Suit yourself." And with that he turned on his heel to walk away, golden hair shimmering in the streetlights.

Ilvana exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. _A great end to a great night. _She fumbled into her purse, looking for her wallet. "Come on, come oooon...CRAP!" Ilva growled. No wallet. No card. No cash. No ID. Who the fuck stole-

The prick she made out with kept manhandling her.

This place was a world away from her apartment down on Bleecker Street.

Sighing and grinding her teeth, the young woman looked ahead, where the blond was just about to turn the corner._ What else could possibly go wrong?_

"Hey! Biker dude, wait up! Fin!" she cried after him, steps hurried but still unable to run.

He looked over his shoulder at her, stopping his advance. Ilva gratefully quickened her strides, though her headache, reaching seismic proportions, didn't allow her to go much faster.

When she reached him she placed her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. "So this is awkward. I just realized my wallet was nicked."

Annoyingly, she thought she saw amusement dancing in those clear baubles before he nodded to his left. "Come on then."

They walked together in silence, Ilva praying to herself there won't be any more surprises. _All I want, is a shower and a bed. And ten pounds of aspirin._

They stopped in front of a black motorcycle.

_Never_ _ tried one of these before. No helmet. Do I need to get home that badly?_

She had to admit it looked cool, smooth silver and black, and must have cost a fortune. And what was that inscription on the fuel tank? _Ass-... As- ...Asf-a-l-o-th? Odd._

"Nice ride," Ilvana said, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling as if she should say something.

"Do you know motorcycles?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then how can you tell it's a _nice ride_?"

Why was this guy insisting on being a royal asshat?

"Dude, I-... just... saying, ok? You don't have to bite my head off. I'm tired, and messed up, and just wanna go home."

He must've sensed the throaty, broken quality of a voice close to tears because he didn't prod any further, instead proceeding to kick the stand up, mount the vehicle nimbly, grabbing the handlebars and next she heard the low rumble of the motor.

She stared at it. Him.

"Well?" the blond motioned with his head back towards the empty space on the seating arrangement.

_Move it, move it, move it, Day! Well, this dude's already seen me flirt badly, make out sloppily with strangers, puke in an alley. Showing a little fear should do nothing to my record._

"Sorry, I'm just not sure how, to..."

"Put your left foot there, hop up, and hold on to me."

Hesitatingly Ilva did so, noticing with annoyance her dress was riding up as she positioned herself on the back seat, her hands now grasping the sides of his jacket.

"Ilvana, hold on to _me_, not my jacket."

_So what if he remembers your name, not everyone has your two sec memory. _"Sorry, right." Ilvana gingerly placed her arms around his torso, fingers interlacing. _Well, definitely feels just as fit as he looks. _"Fuuuuck!" she jolted when they set off, and the more he gained in speed the more rigid her grip around him became.

"Relax, luv," Fin said when they reached a traffic light. "You get used to it after a while."

_Another guy insisting on calling me things I don't like._

"So which way from here?"

"Take a left and then right at the next intersection."

His hair brushed her face, and she sensed a faint... was that perfume? In his hair? Against any semblance of common sense, she leaned forward imperceptibly and sniffed. _Flowery._ A biker with a knack for hair products.

_Oh god, it makes sense now._

_He's gay! _ _He's gay, and there's nothing wrong with my pick up strategy. Feeling better already._

"Is this the place?" he asked as they came to a halt.

"Oh, yeah!"

The grumble of the motor died down. Ilva clumsily removed herself from the metal beast, this As-f- whatever it was, and looked at its rider.

"I'd invite you in, but-"

"No you wouldn't," he cut her off dismissively.

_Tosser__. _"- it's five in the morning," Ilva finished lamely anyway.

He smirked, and Ilvana wished a shovel would magically appear so she could smack that thing off his face. She looked him in the eye. _Humph, his hair _is_ golden. What some chicks wouldn't give for those locks._ "Anyway, thanks. For earlier."

The motor purred anew, about to head off into the sunrise like some scene straight out of Sons of Anarchy, taking Blondie with it. In the recesses of her mind, something didn't sit right._Oh well._ Seeing as he said nothing else, Ilvana smiled unsteadily and broke away from that alien gaze, turning to leave.

"Fancy a coffee sometime?"

_A what. _"Coffee?" she blinked, turning to find him looking at her strangely again. The same look he had back at the bar.

"Yes, coffee. Brew. Cuppa. Jitter juice."

She should say no, return the favor. Maybe it'd help his head fit through the door again. "Sure." _Damnit Day._

Strange gaze intensifies. She took out her phone, anything to stop looking into those glass-clear orbs. _It's like staring at Lestat reloaded._

"Well, there's WhatsApp, or Insta, or-"

"Screw that," he waved her words away. "Phone number?"

_Old school huh._ "Uhm. Yeah."

He pulled out his own phone, took down her number. "I'll see you around, then," Blondie said as he twisted the throttle and left her standing there, bemused and confused.

* * *

A week passed with thankfully no eventful twists and turns. Ilva sat at her laptop, mint tea in hand, looking over job sites. She yawned. She had applied to as many as she could, wherever she thought she had a chance.

"Crap." She closed another browser tab. "Crap." Another. _Goddamnit, is there nothing available in this damn city?_

Nox jumped onto the table, nose feeling the now empty cup. "Not now Puss, mommy's busy finding a source of sustenance. "

Ilvana had managed to land an interview at a flower shop for the following day, in lieu of anyone else calling her. She still had a couple of weeks to find another job so she could keep up with the next batch of bills coming in. Her thoughts strayed to Aaron. He had good tips usually and was doing well in his programming job but she'd rather cut out her nads than ask him for help.

"Screw this, shower time then bed," she closed the lid of her laptop.

Ilva undressed in the bathroom, looking herself over in the mirror to assess the damage that sitting inside for a week eating pizza had done. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her tattoo was still in good shape, considering the type and coloring. A stylized sun, rays yellow and red reaching evenly from the center of her spine across her back. It came about as her own little covenant with herself back when Ilvana was in Art Uni, a dreamer, head full of worldwide travels and bohemian lifestyles. "The sun at my back, the wind in my face," she repeated her old mantra. _And look at how I ended up. Stupid. Ok, self-deprecating moment over, _she shook her head as though to dispel the darkening thoughts.

She had barely gotten out of the shower, electric toothbrush whirring in her mouth when the phone rang.

Unknown number. Ilvana hesitated. _Nah, can't be. _She had mostly forgotten about Fin the biker, declining to dwell on the old 'will he, won't he'. Besides, if she was being honest with herself, she wasn't over Aaron. Far from over, actually. More so completely under, since a lot of things and habits still reminded Ilvana of him. "I have got to move out of this apartment," she said to her cat, who was now cleaning itself unabashedly.

She sighed. Let's_ do this._ "Ilva speaking."

"Ms. Ilvana Day?"

"This is she," she answered, only a little disappointed.

"I'm Sar Curr. You recently applied for a position at our art shop?"

_Yeah, I remember that. Kinda late to call for this sort of thing but I'll take it. _"That's right."

"If you're still interested, I'd like to invite you for an interview," the deep voice continued.

_Jackpot?_ "Of course, yes!"

"Excellent. Would you be available tomorrow at 12 PM?"

"I'll be there. I have your address," she said brightly.

"See you there then. Have a good evening, Ms. Day."

She hung up the phone, drowsiness taking over the giddiness of an unexpected change of fortune. She rubbed at her eyes. _Whatever will be, will be, as the song says._ _Time to hit the hay._

Ilvana soon drifted into a fitful sleep and dreamt of riding through emerald green fields surrounded by high snow-peaked mountains. She dreamt of tall, endless gates and shimmering walls, and golden hair flowing in the wind.


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on, come oon," Ilvana mumbled as she searched for an appropriate parking space. It was 11:45 AM, and her interview was in fifteen minutes. When finally she found a spot and paid she quickly exited her old green Volkswagen Golf, hitting the car door with a thud. Owing to her foster parents, she kept to their appreciation for the European car variety well into adulthood. The car was old, having belonged to her foster dad. Ilvana had kept it even when Aaron offered they purchase a newer model together. Sentimental value, she supposed.

She scanned her surroundings. "OK, so we're in Brooklin. Interesting place to rent for this sort of thing but that's fine."

Ilva turned a corner, headed into the direction the phone map was sending her. "Alright let's see...should be around... here." Not long after she reached her destination. "_Narmo Art Gallery and shop."_

_Breathe in, breathe out,_ Ilva thought before going inside. There was an interesting allure to this place. The lower part was a shop, while upstairs was set as a place for displaying art.

"Hello. Anybody here?" the young woman asked, the place seemingly deserted. She looked around, went over to an array of small sculptures on display. _Interesting workmanship, never seen this like before. _Entranced, she took a wooden piece off the display, studying it.

"That is a rare funeral ceremony piece, pertaining to a minor culture hailing from Oceania," a new voice startled her so much that Ilvana almost dropped the object and yelped.

"Jesus Ch-," her eyes met very light, yellowish-brown ones. Then her gaze fell on long copper hair of the strangest hue, tied back loosely. It worked with the black sweater and jeans he wore. _That can't be his natural hair color though. Oh well, these art types. I should know. _"I'm sorry, you only startled me."

The new presence smiled kindly, helping to release some of her tension. "Sorry about that. I've been told before I tend to sneak up on people."

"No worries," Ilvana immediately felt drawn to his pleasantness, though she'd only known this man for two minutes. "I... I had an interview scheduled for 12 PM here? Are you Mr. Sar, whom I spoke to on the phone?" she tried.

Dark copper eyebrows frowned lightly. "Oh, no. Unfortunately, my associate had to go away on a business trip. But I'll fill in for him. I'm Ron, owner, and director of Narmo Art," he extended a greeting hand.

_Would never have taken him for a Ron. A director, huh? What is he, twenty-five? Twenty-nine tops? _She went with it. "Oh, sure, great. I'm Ilvana Day."

That mellowing smile grew wider. "Good to meet you. Let's head up to my office?" he offered, motioning for Ilvana to go first. They climbed the winding stairs, Ilva noticing the various furnishings around the place. Everything was very minimal though an accent here or there left you thinking. The same went for the framed artwork. It was intriguing but unsettling. A strange array of colors and shapes and mind-bending patterns. _Ok, this is nice._

The interview started soon enough and as Ron asked his questions and she replied, Ilvana could not help but feel more and more relaxed and more... herself with each moment spent in his company. _Completely unlike the usual interviewing experience, that's for sure._

They noted that she was an Art graduate, a painter herself though that didn't make for a full-time job. Ilvana had no experience in Sales but had tried art presentation and curating before.

Eventually, Ron leaned back in his chair, those catlike eyes setting on her, one hand on each armrest. Ilva noticed several simple silver bands adorning those long slender fingers. She also observed his skin was very pale, with no sign of any wrinkles nor blemishes. He spoke casually but his countenance was almost demanding, as if he owned the air you breathed. Some people were like that. But the main feeling she had from him was positive encouragement. As if tempting you to say everything you wanted without fear of consequence or reaction.

"Ms. Day, I'll be honest," his voice brought her back to the subject at hand. "We are a small, independent business. We don't do corporate here. Everything has a fine touch. The salary isn't something to marvel at, but it _is_ negotiable. You would bear responsibility as our art shop assistant, and that of acting curator for some of our newer pieces. Is that something you would take on?"

_Hell, just about anything would do at this point. _Her mind was made up._ "_I understand. And yes, I would like to try, if you think me adequate for the role, that is."

"Well from what I've heard and seen so far, you seem to have just the right amount of experience we need," Ron said, positively beaming.

_Please, please let there be no catch with this guy._ Ilvana thought back to Al, her previous boss. _Talk about a mile difference._

"Does that mean I get the job?" she grinned, finding she was behaving completely opposite to how she usually did around new people.

Amber eyes gleamed on her. "If you accept."

Her hand shot out before Ilvana could stop herself. "It's a deal! Done!"

They shook hands, and she noticed how cold his were. _Oh well, bad circulation on these taller ones._ Then the director of Narmo Art proceeded to give her details about the role and pay, and they discussed the contract.

"So, when do I begin?"

"When can you start?"

"Ahm. Tomorrow?"

Ron laughed, a short, thrilling sound. "Ambitious!"

"What else to drive you forward, right?" she shrugged.

His encouraging smile grew wider. "I think you and I will get along just fine, Ilvana Day."

Ilvana was strangely taken by his stare, feeling as if this one saw something she didn't. _I really need to see someone, paranoia kicking in. _So her eyes brightened and her own smile widened. "Call me Ilva."

* * *

"I got it, I got a job, Myr!" she was saying into the phone, heading towards her car.

"Woohoo! Congrats! You know what this calls for, right?"

"Not, another night out? Myr, I told you about last time-"

"Hey, admit that was you being down and eventually stupid."

"Yeah, ok. I'll take that," Ilva grumbled.

"So did he call? Just morbidly curious."

"Who? Oh. No, he didn't," Ilva frowned, recalling the utterly strange experience that Blond Biker had been.

"Well, his loss."

"People always say that as if it's some needed consolation. I don't care about that. And I didn't care too much for him really." And she somewhat meant it. "So listen, different topic. I know this is going to sound patronizing, but I've seen you, Myr, so just listen to a favor I want to ask: please don't drink and drive, or take drugs and drive-"

"Says you who crashed on mixing barely weeks ago."

"Come on, I mean it. You're twenty-seven now, grow up a little. Your last ticket was weeks ago, imagine if they find you inebriated or-"

"Always easier to point things out innit."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, Myr. Sorry. Shoot me for caring," Ilva said tiredly.

"So, make it up to me by meeting tonight at the X? Your presence will help keep me from illegalities," she could feel her friend smiling impishly on the other end.

Ilva groaned. The mind-controlling cow. "Hey, I'll think about it."

"Fine. Take care. But call me either way!"

"Take care Myr."

_How Myra is still at large is beyond me sometimes. _She shook her head. Her friend had a heart the size of Jupiter, but her methods were sometimes lacking. Numbing the senses didn't always mean dealing with the pain. _Dealing with pain_ was dealing with pain. It covered up the pain. It made you forget, and avoid it. It never helped her much anyhow.

She got to her car, started the engine. It roared for a few seconds before dying down. "Huh...," she hit the ignition again. The same happened. "What the-..." She knew she had fuel. After a few failed tries, she eventually called the towing company and had them take the car to service.

"I'm sorry Ms. Day, but your engine died on you. I'm afraid there's not much else to be done with your car, save for selling it for parts and pieces. It's not worth investing in a new engine with this old model."

_Oh well, one step ahead, two steps behind. Used to it by now. _Getting another car wouldn't happen too soon, now that most of her expenses had doubled.

And so Ilvana eventually took a cab home, her mood an appropriate mix of highs and lows.

_Alright, got a job. Plus. I'm kind of lonely but also not lonely enough to just screw anyone in sight. But still lonely. Minus. Car's dead. Minus. Debt's not dead. Minus minus. I haven't run into Aaron at all, so that's kind of a plus. Hmm... I didn't get raped. Plus? ...well technically a minus because it fucking traumatized me._ Ilva soon felt like she was scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

She yawned. "Well, it's only late afternoon, and looks like I'm entering the napping years because I sure could use one," Ilvana complained facetiously to the cat, lying on the couch, her thoughts fusing together. Life had a way of making you give and letting you take. Nox jumped next to her before she climbed atop Ilva's stomach and settled there.

"Oh yeah, the purr treatment," Ilvana gurgled lazily, stroking the cat behind its ear. "Lay it on me, doctor." She stretched, allowing her body to relax, her jaw to unwind. Her lashes became heavier.

She was climbing, higher and higher. Her limbs were strained and trembling. A harsh wind cut into her face. Others followed, unwavering in their steps. She looked beyond them and saw the green vale before her, drenched in soot, and drowned in black smoke.

The powerful cry of an eagle sounded from afar. All was silent, but she could hear their sighs of defeat and feel the bone weariness surrounding her. She was atop the highest cliff, above the highest mountains, but not alone. Others were there also, but she could not discern their faces.

Strong gusts of air bellowed and wailed against her body, and a fiery sunset clad everything in a spectrum of reds and bruising shades. A peaceful glow feathered over grim faces. Nobody spoke, all were looking to her.

There was a sadness, a deep and ravaging grief, tearing her apart.

_Where am I?_

It was as if Ilvana was both the spectator and spectated. She saw, lived.

She looked over to the valley beneath the mountain. Fire and flame. Her eyes then fell over a high spun place, a hastily risen mound of cold, white stone. There were smears of blood. Frowning, she drew nearer. It was not long before Ilvana saw someone lay there. Hot tears flamed down her face, forming streaks of soot and ash. As she continued her advance the woman saw armor, burnt and ravaged, adorning still limbs. It may have been gleaming white and gold once. The golden hilt of a broken sword shone atop his breast, against a tabard of blackened green. A warrior?

She did not want to look. She could not look. Still, Ilvana approached, hands leaning in support against the rocks, to look upon his face-

The phone rang, causing Ilva to jump ramrod straight out of her wits. _What the hell... __what kind of a dream was that?_ It had felt real, she felt the breath in her lungs, the wind lashing against her face. The numbing anguish of everyone present. _Maybe I need to see a specialist. Who knows what my subconscious is crying about here..._

The phone was still ringing and she scrambled to answer.

_Unknown number. Here we go again._

"Hello?"

"Hi, luv."

"...Fin?" Ilvana blinked the sleep away from her eyes, frowning.

"You remembered this time."

"Yeah."

"So how about that coffee?"


	6. Chapter 6

She took the subway to work the next morning. It was a bright and warm day, though the city was as chaotic as ever. This time it didn't bother her. She was looking forward to her first day at Narmo Art. Then as Ilva looked out the window, staring through shapes quickly fading in and out of sight, she recalled the conversation she had with Fin.

"It's a bit late for coffee today, don't you think?"

"Could switch it for a drink. Whenever you have some time to spare."

"Right. Well, I don't know... tomorrow evening sound good?"

"I'll pick you up. Does 6 PM work?"

"Where to?"

"We'll figure something out."

"Mysterious. Not gonna end up in a barrel dissolving in acid, am I?"

A snort was heard at the other end. "See you then."

"Alright. Cheers."

_Why am I doing this again?_

When she finally reached the shop she smelt a vague scent of incense wafting in the air. _Mystical are we. As long as this isn't some nutty Illuminati group I'll be fine._

She looked around, eyes falling on the neatness of everything and then on Ron, sitting behind the counter leisurely holding up a file before him and checking something. His brassy hair draped loosely over his shoulders, sheltering half of his face. He still wore black, and she had to admit it did something for him.

"Hey, good morning," she smiled, causing him to lift his head.

"Good morning, ready for another day at the office?" the director of Narmo Art looked at her as he rose from his chair.

"Oh, hah," she smiled, an annoying blush creeping up her neck under his stare. _Ilva. Jeez. _"So listen, sorry for being ten minutes late, I know it's my first day and all, but I have no car and had to take the sub,-"

Ron waved away her words. "This isn't a 9 to 5. I told you and I meant it, we don't do corporate here. Now come on, let me show you the basics."

Intrigued, Ilva listened to all he taught and showed her, starting with the stock, the different value art pieces, the register set up, the way the gallery was arranged and split upstairs.

As he explained Ron always looked her in the eye and when she drew away his voice always somehow brought her back. No matter those unsettling eyes. _Talk about genetic mutations._ His voice was calming and she soon found herself thinking him a very pleasant addition to her host of acquaintances.

"So, how are you feeling? Distressed, confused, overwhelmed, good to go? All of the above?" he asked Ilva when they were done. They were descending the stairs.

"Actually," she turned her head to look at him, "I feel ready. Thanks for the induction."

"-Ron," he smiled.

Ilvana grinned. "Thanks for the induction, Ron."

She looked at him and he at her, and not for a second did she find that lingering look unsettling. "Well I'll be upstairs, should you need any help. I'm not always here, but then my associate Sar will be. You'll meet him eventually."

"Oh, sounds good. I guess I'll take my place behind the counter, then, boss."

Thin lips revealed straight, white teeth. Ilva noticed that when he smiled he looked somewhat predatory, those straight, drawn features tightening, pupils dilating. "I guess you will. Oh, one more thing."

He moved towards the sculpture pieces on display for sale, taking one of them in his hand. Ilva followed him curiously, eyes drawn to the object when he turned around.

"A welcome gift. I remember you studying it when you first came in."

It was the small funeral ceremony piece she had picked up the other day. It was made of what looked like a very dense and heavy type of wood, blackened with time. Smooth and shiny to the touch, engraved with what looked like intricate inscriptions. The shape was slender, similar to a small totem of sorts and its top was shaped into the stylized head of a wolf.

"Oh, Ron, I couldn't, it must cost a fortune-"

"I insist," he said, an overwhelming nuance to his tone that weakened her resolve. She knew she wanted to take it.

"Well, uh, thank you. It is beautiful," she said thoughtfully as she took the object from him and studied its detail.

"The people of this culture disappeared long ago, so you won't find much information on it."

"I see. Makes me appreciate it even more," she met his eyes, finding those light yellowish-brown orbs smiling at her. "Alright well, I guess it's time to pull my weight around here."

* * *

"Listen, I really gotta go Myr," Ilva was saying as she was combing her hair, phone buds in-ear.

"Oh, right, forgot you have a date. Go forth, and please, please get laid. Ok? I might forgive you then for standing me up yesterday."

"I did _not_ stand you up. I never confirmed, plus I just somehow crashed, was beat. And don't be so presumptuous. "

"Witch, you're a smart girl, denial doesn't suit you. Go for it if it comes your way."

"Bye, Myr."

The more she thought about it, the stranger it was. This guy called on her sure, but if he'd start behaving the way he did before, she didn't see much of a point to getting to know him better. _Ilvana 2.0. Saying no to assholes. Be the change you want to see in the world _she told herself jokingly.

She dressed in black skinny jeans, a backless forest green top since the weather was still warm, and her own brown leather jacket. _I guess it's a bike ride again. _She pulled on her black Chucks and was just putting up her hair in a loose bun when the phone rang.

"Hey, coming down," she answered.

"I'll be here."

Ilvana placed some food and water in the bowl for Nox, looked the flat over one more time. She noticed the gift she got from Ron on the kitchen table. "Gotta find a place for you," she said before exiting and closing the door.

The blond was waiting for her on his bike, motor rumbling.

"Hey," she said in the friendliest manner she could. _Giving it a chance._

"Ilvana," he smiled at her, leaning forward.

"So doing this again," Ilvana chuckled only a little nervously, her eyes on the metal beast.

The blond leaned to one side and threw something at her. By instinct and sheer luck, she caught it.

"Hey! Don't do that," she looked to the grey helmet in her hands. "Thanks. Not sure it'll fit me though."

"Try it," Blond Biker crossed his arms.

It fit. _OK, good eye? _"Don't look so smugly at me. So, where are we going?" Ilva asked as she mounted the backseat with some difficulty.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "How about a trip to the beach?"

"The beach, which beach?" _Unnerving gaze strikes again. Stop it, you. Look away._ He didn't.

His grin blocked out the sun. "You'll see."

Ilvana rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I repeat, I have a taser and a krav maga course under my belt."

She felt his chest shake with a modicum amount of laughter as Ilvana held on to him. _You liked that, you know it._

Fin drove them for a couple of hours across streets and neighborhoods. Ilva found she liked the view of an open air cruise. Everything was more immersive, and you felt less constricted. Blondie was also a good driver it seemed since she had no jolts of surprise when changing speed nor were there any sort of close calls on their way.

He was warm against her, and despite herself, Ilva felt each tense of the muscle when he drove. _Yikes, mind on puppies. Sweet puppies. Debt. Ugh, that's right. Got so much of it._ She tried not to push too much into his back, but her grip tightened on him involuntarily at times. Once or twice the blond turned his head briefly and smiled, or so she thought. _That sunrise hair still makes me jealous._ _The rest of him, mildly unsettled._

Soon the houses disappeared and they went farther and farther into beach terrain until they reached a parking space. They dismounted and Ilva looked around. A brilliant sunset was in bloom, and when he turned to her Ilva couldn't miss the way it reflected in his eyes. He wore his long hair loose again, that black jacket. _Weirdo._

"Fire Island?" Ilvana regarded the tower, then looked back to him.

The most irksome smirk on this side of the Atlantic returned. "Better than a bar, isn't it?" Fin asked, taking two beers out of the seat bag.

Ilvana crossed her arms. "Yeah. But if you're gonna start stripping I do not skinny dip let me tell you-"

He shook his head tiredly, but the smirk didn't fade as the blond handed her a beer before pointing ahead. "Let's go that way."

They walked along the beach, feet digging into the white sand, the ocean breeze fresh against their faces. The mass of water soon appeared as though on fire, a golden cauldron overflowing with liquid rays. Ilvana felt unusually relaxed, drifting... free. The silence didn't bother her either. It was good to be away, good to feel the skies overhead and the sand beneath their feet. It was good to feel unrestrained by metal and stone. And looking his way, Ilvana considered how this was a far cry from their strikingly awkward first encounter. There was no strangeness between them. They simply were. She turned to Fin and saw he was following the brimming sunset.

"So, why here? Is this some retreat of sorts for you?"

Fin raised a golden eyebrow, and Ilvana for the first time noticed how disarmingly honest his face looked. It was as though you wanted to trust him, and he emanated a sort of steadiness Ilva had never known before. _This is not strange. This is fine. I've just gotta survive the rebound period._

They stopped walking, both turning to witness the now red glow of the fiery body engulfing the ocean.

"So, I have to ask. Why'd you call?"

Fin took out a cigarette.

_Great._

"Isn't it obvious? I wanted to see you again." Click, flame, clank.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. And you're here, so you must have wanted to see me too." He took another smoke.

A muscle twitched in her face. _Attitude alert. _"Maybe I'm just curious," Ilvana said blankly, crossing her arms to her chest.

"Maybe I wanted to get to know you better," the blond added, eyes cutting to hers.

_Why can't I look away, Ilva you weakling. Remember the rebound. Avoid the rebound. _"What would you like to know, mysterious knight?"

Fin shrugged. "Who is Ilvana Day?"

"Will you return the favor?"

"I might."

"That's not fair. I have to know things about you too. It's the basics of negotiation - each of us gets something, and none of us gets everything."

"Tit for tat?"

"Isn't it the girl that usually plays hard to get?"

"What antiquated notions for this day and age, Ms. Day. And I don't play such games."

"Sure," Ilvana smiled dryly, the roll of her eyes adding to her answer. She looked into his amused face, scoffed, and started moving ahead as he followed.

But the young woman told him some of her story and he listened, though it soon evolved into a game of sorts.

"See. Nothing out of the ordinary. I told you about my coming to New York now it's your turn. What are you doing here? What do you do? What's your last name?"

"I'm not from here, but I come around every once in a while. I do trade."

_Interesting._ "Trade, with what?"

"That's above your question allowance." His eyes glinted in a way that made her feel it was suddenly too warm outside.

"You drive a hard bargain. Hmm... alright, let's see." Ivana took off her light jacket, and paced in front of him, pointing at her back where the rayed sun tattoo peeked from the backless top. "I have a tattoo on my back and chest. Not much value in this but it's still a piece of me. Your turn."

In the silence that followed, she turned to face him.

_Huh? _Sure he was looking at her, but he was staring _through_ her. "Fin? Come on," she smiled vaguely, "it's not that ugly. You have something against tattoos?"

Fin blinked, lowered his head, and smiled. "Not at all. Does it have a special meaning to you or other?"

"Of course. It means..." Ilvana looked to the celestial body disappearing beyond the ocean. "... freedom. And strength. Warmth and protection. I was more of a sappy dreamer when I got it than I am now. It just... always seemed to lurk beyond my mind somewhere. I finally got it done."

"Dreams are not unlike memories. Except they drive you forward instead of back."

Ilva looked at him to see if it was indeed him speaking. His words and inflection, slightly changed from before. She found it unusual but did not dwell on it.

Then she recalled her most recent dream somehow. "I don't know, I've been having some pretty odd dreams lately. And they spoke of the past."

"Well, we're talking actual dreams then." He seemed to ponder. "What were they about?"

Ilvana thought about it. The gathering. The fire. The faceless one deceased in his honorary garb.

"I'd rather not spend time on it. Some trash from my subconscious, stress release for sure."

The blond shrugged at that and said nothing more as they resumed walking. After some time they reached his motorcycle.

"Let's get you home," Fin smiled her way when they were both astride the vehicle.

When the pair reached her apartment Ilvana dismounted, placing her hand on his arm before the blond set off. "Hey, so, just thank you, for this. It was relaxing. You're not too bad."

There was that perfectly even smile again, complemented by light eyes. "Were you in doubt? What if we do this again sometime?"

Her mouth quirked in annoyance, but the words that came were, "Yeah, yeah I'd like that."

Reaching her apartment Ilvana took off her shoes and plopped into an armchair; the young woman found she wished the evening had been longer.

Something dropped to the floor in the kitchen.

"Nox," Ilva called, rising and heading into that direction. "If you don't behave..." her eyes fell on the sculpture from Ron. "Leave it to the cat to ruin your priceless artwork."

She lifted the object. "We're finding you a nice spot." And entering the bedroom she placed the sculpture onto the small wood and cast iron nightstand. "There."

* * *

She stood atop the same cliff. The faces, the funeral, her hesitating steps. Ilvana reached closer and saw the hilt of the sword, the deathly whiteness of his hands, then her eyes trailed upward-

Surroundings shifted and this time she was alone. Ilvana looked to her left. An evenly displayed array of white rock bedecked with bright yellow flowers. She felt hollow witnessing it. A cairn.

A grave.

She looked back into the abyss before her. Peace. The freezing winds sent auburn hair astray. She held her head high and closed her eyes. She lunged forward.


	7. Chapter 7

Ilva shot upright from the bed, her brow covered in beads of sweat. She looked at the clock. 3 AM_._

She covered her face in her palms and groaned. _A good time for these fucking nightmares to stop right about now._ She hadn't changed her diet or eating habits and didn't usually eat heavy dinners. "I don't get it," she placed her palm to her forehead. Could the stress of all these recent changes be responsible for this cluster of oniric mindfucks? _Gotta work on that. More sports. More magnesium. Gods, that felt wrong. _She kept recalling the black nothingness surrounding her after the fall. Ilvana shuddered. "Oh well, there goes my night," she mumbled, getting out of bed and retrieving her laptop. Soon Ilvana was yawning again. She looked at the clock. 5 AM. _Two more potential hours of rest. Let's try this again._

Work that day proved to be uneventful and even pleasant by general standards. She was just in the midst of arranging newly arrived gallery pieces together with Ron for an exposition.

Her supervisor knelt and rummaged through the works, carefully taking one canvas to look it over, Ilva hovering over his shoulder. "See, this is the latest from Dayne Harlowe. His style remains unchanged but his themes are different from his 2016 works," he was saying, eyes lit with passion.

Ilva listened, gazing at the painting, chin barely touching his shoulder. "I see what you mean. What's this one called?" she asked. _How does he feel so familiar and... approachable?_ Ilvana didn't feel any attraction towards him, not in _that_ way, but still was drawn to this person she barely knew. Taking in the sheen of his long brassy hair, tied back in a simple tail. He always smelled of incense, something heavy and sweet. _Like black lotus._

Ron's eyes were still on the painting but soon rested on her features. "Beyond Lifetimes. See here - the lovers are together, the sphere signifies oneness but their feet are placed on different squares here. The other minor symbols support the general theme. It follows the idea of, well, love, transcending time and space as the only irrefutable Truth."

"So deep. Don't let me catch you telling that stuff around my friend Myra, if you want to stay safe and unspoiled."

Her employer laughed, a lilting sound that lit her mood. "You make it sound like a challenge."

"Hey, she's coming over to pick me up for lunch today. Maybe you'll see what I mean." Ilvana mock winked at him, he smiled back.

"Maybe I will."

Just then someone entered the establishment. Both turned to see who it was.

"Oh, good, Sar! Welcome back," the director of Narmo Art walked towards his associate.

Myra looked the new presence over. A tall, thin yet imposing man, wearing a white tailored suit. A completely white head of hair, thin angular face and jaw with a goatee, all cropped neat and short. And the blackest, most expressive eyes she had ever seen sheltered under bushy eyebrows.

"Greetings, Ronald," the man said in what Ilvana recognized to be the voice she spoke to on the phone. Then his eyes fell on Ilvana. "Why, hello-"

"Sar, this is our new employee, Ilvana Day. The one you called for the curator and front office position?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Welcome to our small family, Ms. Day. " Ilva instantly sensed a Sherlock Holmes vibe about this one. His accent was also more towards the British side.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sar."

Sar smiled indulgingly. "We will have time for catching up." He then turned to Ron. "Shall we go into your office to discuss my findings?"

"Of course. Ilva, I'll see you later."

Lunchtime did come around eventually, and with it so did Myra.

"Pff, this place reeks of New Age confusion," the dark-haired woman said as she closed the door behind her. "Ilva, before they draw you into their cult, always remember the Jonestown massacre."

"Lips sealed woman!" her friend smirked. "Can you just once show some support for others' happiness?"

"You call _this_ place happiness? I call it stifling... like a dolled up mummy house. Whatever, who am I to judge! Glad you're doing good."

Ilva rolled her eyes. "So where we off to for lunch?"

"Well, seeing as you _don't_ have a car and I_ do,_ I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"And we both know how risky that is."

"Witch-," she started to say but trailed off as she witnessed Ron, just stepping down the stairs. "-will you introduce me?" Myra continued, at which Ilva crossed her arms.

_Oh brother._

"Hey, Ron. Meet Myra. Myra, Ron," Ilva said blankly. _She knows I hate playing matchmaker._

"Hi there," Ron beamed at Myra, flashing her a dashing smile, his hand outstretched in greeting.

"Hello..." Myra took his hand.

_Off with the fuck-me look, Myra. Damnit, I barely got to work here. _Ilvana nearly missed hearing Myra ask Ron if he wanted to join them for lunch.

_Ugh._

"Oh thanks, but I'll have to skip. A lot to do today," he tilted his head, studying the two women with a casual smile.

"We could bring you something over, if you like..." Myra went on relentlessly, making Ilva want to step on her foot.

"That won't be necessary. But feel free to stop by anytime, we'll surely have something of... interest to you," that perfect smile widened.

"You already do-"

"Myra! Let's go?" Ilva cut in, annoyance peaking though Ron's indulging smile never left his face, his eyes set on Myra.

"-Yeah, let's. See you later, Ron," her friend added joyfully, eyes only slightly glazed over.

When they were outside, Ilva gave her friend the full lowdown. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"Stop flirting with my boss. I barely just got this job, and I don't want complications."

"Pff, you worry too much. Did you see his eyes? What-"

"Yeah, I'm not blind. Could you please, just-"

"Do you think he has someone?"

"Myra!"

"Fine. You don't need to worry so much. Besides, must be a fish in bed. When I shook his hand, I felt something weird. It was cold. And I mean ice cold. You ever notice that?"

"Ah? Well. Bad circulation."

The two friends shrugged, soon closing the subject of Ron for the time being as they went about their set course.

* * *

Ilvana threw another piece of paper into the bin. _Damn, damn, damn, am I ever out of practice! _She had intended to start painting again, but like with every skill, lack of practice brought frustration. Especially when recalling what she used to be able to do compared to where she was now.

_Ok, perseverance and baby steps. Don't give up._

Thunder rolled in the distance, startling her. "Oh, that's gonna be a big one," Ilvana muttered to herself offhandedly, still struggling with the proportions on her sketch. And right she was. In a little over an hour, it was pouring outside. Lightning flashed from time to time.

Ilva sat propped against the balcony entrance, a cup of tea in hand. At first, relaxing to listen to, the rain and wind soon turned so vicious she had to close herself in. Ilva took out the book she was reading. '_The satanic verses' _was a work she'd wanted to read for a long time. Magical realism was a genre she enjoyed, especially when written so masterfully. _Would that we had that kind of stuff in our own world...would make things a hell of a lot more interesting. Daydreaming... very productive Ilva. _After some time she looked at her phone. 11 PM. She stretched, intent on getting ready for bed. Looking around the apartment, there was a familiar sting of hurt at the memories created here. It was emptier, and Ilvana at times felt lonelier living here by herself but it wasn't half bad. A brief thought of Aaron flashed through her mind, soon overtaken by clear eyes reflecting the sunset. For the first time, Ilvana caught herself wondering what _he_ was doing. They kind of left it open, no strings attached. Just a curious presence in her life. Everyone has someone like that.

The phone rang, taking her out of her thoughts. _Huh?_

"Ilvana Day?"

"Hello. This is Dr. Mark Wor of the NYU Medical Center ER."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm calling on behalf of your friend, Myra Eled. I have the unfortunate news that she's suffered a car accident and is in critical condition. You were on her emergency contacts."

_Myra. _A strangled surge of fear went through her limbs, making her drowsy and wound up at the same time.

"Ms. Day?"

"Yes, yes, of course, I'll, I'll be right there."

_Fuck, how? _She called a cab company. "Sorry, Ms, because of the rain we're all out. Call back in 15 minutes?"

"Fuck!" she yelled. She called a different company. The same result. She checked her taxi apps. _No ride available. _Uber. _The closest car is 30 minutes away._

"Hello, so do you have a car available now please, it's very urgent, my friend-"

"No ma'am, we're all taken with this storm, I'm sorry. But if you call back in 15 minutes-"

"Forget it!" Ilva threw the phone onto the couch, starting to get dressed. _I'll go on foot, I can't leave her, I'll have to somehow take the sub and-_

It was not a brilliant idea. Very unlikely. But she had to try. Ilva took her phone quickly.

"Hello," someone answered.

"Fin?"

"Ilvana-..."

"Yeah, Uhm, I wonder- look, Myra's had an accident, and I have to get to the ER, and nothing's available with this storm and-"

"Slow down," his calm voice reached her. "I can be over in a few, luckily I was in Manhattan tonight."

"So you're coming?" Ilvana asked, her voice frantic and high pitched with worry.

"Be ready, call you when there."

_May the gods bless this weirdo. _She took a bag, threw a few items in, a change of clothes included, and ran towards the elevator.

As promised soon Ilvana heard the rumble of a motorcycle and saw him stop before the entrance to the building. His jacket glistened with pouring water and golden strands bloomed from underneath a raised hoodie, drawn over his head as shelter from the rain.

She had never been so glad to see him.

Ilvana jumped on, all misgivings from before forgotten.

"We'll have to go slower, ok?" Fin said. "Hold on, it's fairly dangerous during this rain. We'll get there."

Ilva closed her eyes and held on tight. Tighter than was maybe required. It was a strange inclination and came with a measure of relief that stilled her wild agitation.

When they arrived at the hospital, both soaked from the rain, Ilva ran to find the whereabouts of her friend. "Dr. Mark Wor, I need to speak to Dr. Mark Wor," she told the receptionist nurse.

"Stand over there Ms, he'll be right down," and she began speaking into her headset to notify the doctor.

Ilvana walked up and down, anxiety piling up her throat. She felt his eyes on her.

"Where is her family?" the blond asked gently.

"Myra doesn't have a family. Both parents are gone, no siblings. I'm her only... and I told her to stop doing crap behind the wheel! I told her, the cow!" Ilva seethed, wringing her hands.

"Ilvana, stop," she felt hands on her shoulders.

"What?!" she looked up at Fin, then paused. The way he was looking at her caused her frantic pulse to slow somewhat.

"The doctor is coming."

She looked around the corridor, seeing nobody coming towards them. Ilvana looked back to him, feeling drawn by an unseen force. A few moments passed as she held the light of his eyes.

"Ms. Day?"

"Yes," Ilvana jerked out of whatever state she was in, staring into the face of the elderly doctor who had joined them.

"I'm Dr. Wor. The violence of this storm has rendered most ERs full. Plenty of people got hurt tonight. Your friend... suffered quite a few serious fractures and lesions, including a concussion. She is currently unconscious. We did all we could. "

A gasp escaped her. A hand was on her shoulder. Unwittingly Ilva placed her own hand over it, gripping tightly. "Can I see her?"

"This way," the doctor nodded.

They reached the salon where they saw Myra, face full of tubes, hooked to a myriad of cables and machines, and cast in bandages. A faint pulse flicked on a monitor.

"Oh, Myra..." Ilvana felt tears welling and threatening to spill, brought her head in her hands. Her limbs felt weak, and in her state the young woman barely felt him there, steadying her, keeping her upright. Ilvana stood watching her best friend, praying for the first time in a long time. Then she pried herself away and turned around abruptly, shoulders shaking.

The blond looked towards Ilva, unmoving. His eyes were shadowed by a pensive sadness, his features set with a soft, caring expression. He then looked over to the woman lying unconscious. She was dying. He went closer until he stood by her bed. His vision strayed one more time towards Ilva's turned back before leaning closer and placing his hand over the smaller one still on the bed. Something resisted. The blond frowned. _This, here? It cannot be. _But his hand stayed where it was, and he closed his eyes. "Á enwinyata immo ron," he whispered.

"What?" Ilva asked, knowing Fin had said something but not having heard.

"Ms. Day, it's time to go," a nurse said then as she cracked the door open.

_I can't go. I'll stay here. I have to stay._

"Ilvana," Fin's voice sounded from somewhere.

"Yeah?" she asked dazedly. It was a call she felt rather than heard.

"Come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Á enwinyata immo ron' = '~ heal soon' (Quenya)


	8. Chapter 8

Tick. Tock.

The sound of the clock in the waiting hall stuck daggers into her brain.

Tick. Tock.

Ilva was seated, head bent forward, elbows propped against her knees. Waiting.

_Too young. Myra's too young. Please._

Tick. Tock.

She hadn't felt how many hours had gone by. They wouldn't let her see Myra again.

"Ilva."

Fin. _He's still here? Why is he still here-_

She looked up. He was holding a cup of something, offering it to her.

"Thanks. Hey, you don't have to hang around here you know. The storm's let up. I'm tons grateful and I do feel sorry for imposing on you like this-"

The blond shook his head, waving away her tirade. He draped himself over the seat next to her, staring at the ceiling. "You know these things don't matter. Your friend does."

_My friend. _Tears threatened to spill again. She looked so small and frail, hooked up to all those machines.

Ilva felt warm fingers gently brushing over her hand. She looked to Fin who was now staring at her, and his eyes shone strangely. But in her state, nothing much mattered, save for Myra waking up.

"You have to believe she'll pull through. Do you?" Fin asked.

"I..." _don't know_. "I'm afraid," she admitted, opening up before she could think, somehow losing herself in those unsettling clear irises.

"Everyone is when faced with the unknown."

"I'm afraid of death," she followed. "Of her death."

Fingers slid away from her hand, and she felt strangely empty. He turned his head, eyes now unfocused.

"It is never the end."

_OK... sometimes Fin the biker doesn't like contractions? _Still, she thought nothing of the slightly different tone and manner of his words. "Nobody knows that," she said to her hands.

Fin grimaced but said nothing.

Again she wondered what he was doing here. They were technically little more than strangers to each other, yet-

"You don't know Myra. You don't know me. Why do you-"

His eyes cut to hers, making her wince at the new hardness she saw in them. "If it unsettles you so, I can leave," he rose from the chair.

"No!" Ilvana added hastily, and her hand reached for his arm before she could stop herself. "I would like it if you stayed. Please. I'm sorry." _Like I have anyone else at this point?_

"Don't be sorry, Ilvana."

"I just..." she placed her head in her hands again. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if she..."

"Drink that tea. I'm going for a cigarette. And Ilva-"

"Yeah?" she said, voice muffled under her palms.

"Dwell on life, not death."

"Yeah, I'll try."

"Do."

_Never took him for such an optimist._

More long hours passed, finding her in the same chair, in the same position.

_Oh no, it's 5 AM_ _. I'll have to call Ron and say I'm not fit for work today._

"Ms. Day?"

Slowly she lifted her head. The doctor on call.

"You are here for Myra Eled?"

"Yes," she choked, the blood draining from her face.

"Your friend has awoken, and she is in a stable condition. You may see her if you wish."

_Awake. She's __awake!?_ "Of course I do!" she stammered and turned her head to look at Fin, who was already on his feet offering her a hand to rise.

"See? Not the end," he smiled in a kind sort of way, and the young woman was surprised at this new side of him.

Ilva took his hand wordlessly, heart hammering from both the news and the fright and the warmth of him.

She tried to keep steady when they entered the salon but nearly tripped in her haste to be at Myra's side.

"Witch..." the other murmured weakly.

"You big fat cow," Ilvana said gently, finally releasing all her pent up tears.

Myra smiled. "I feel... great," she said facetiously. "When's the next pub crawl?"

"Shut up," Ilva sobbed, taking Myra's weakened hand in hers.

Myra then noticed Fin, leaning with arms crossed against the closed door. She looked back to Ilvana, a flicker of her usual self beaming. "Well, well-"

"He was of great help tonight."

"Then," Myra caught the blond's eye. "Thank you stranger, just careful with this one, she's a world of pain. In the butt."

"Is that any way to talk to your new caretaker, Myra? Because now, thanks to your own self, you'll be seeing more of me than you ever wanted."

Myra's expression suddenly turned darker, and Ilva was surprised to see fear in her eyes. "Ilva, it wasn't me, I swear. I had nothing to drink, took nothing."

"Then the storm-?"

"No," she said frantically, and the pulse on the monitor started to run.

"Myra, hey, calm down a little-"

"It wasn't the storm, Witch. I was heading out of town to see Arn. I- saw ... something. It cut my way. I tried to avoid it and turned the wheel..."

A sudden agitation took hold of her friend. "A shadow... it was-" she started, fingers curling rigidly.

Fin uncrossed his arms and neared the bed just as Ilva started towards the door.

"Nurse!" the young woman cried. She then turned around, witnessing Fin, his hand on Myra's forehead, her eyes closed. The pulse on the monitor was slowing.

The nurse came in to check on her friend as Fin returned to Ilva's side. She didn't ask. She wasn't even sure what she had seen. But at that moment he looked... different. _I haven't slept all night. Imagining things. And Myra's popped up on a million substances. She was delirious._

"She needs more rest. We'll move her in the morning. Are you her main contact?" the nurse was asking.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

* * *

Days passed and turned into weeks. As Myra's condition improved she'd been sent home. Every day after work Ilva would pass by her house to spend time, bring shopping or help with whatever else she needed. She was still in crutches, having broken a leg in the accident.

"Leave those any ol' where," she motioned to the grocery bags Ilva brought one day. Myra was at her laptop, set up for work. "I love home office." Being a graphic designer had its perks. Like a lot of jobs nowadays, having an internet connection was enough to make a living.

_She looks well. _Things were slowly getting back to normal. The only thing at times irking Ilva was her friend's unusual outburst in the ER. But Myra never mentioned it again, and she didn't ask.

"So hey, I'm planning a comeback party next week. I expect you to be there, Witch."

"A comeback party."

"Yup."

"You know you'll be in crutches for some time yet, yes?"

"Your point?" Myra asked belligerently, causing an eye roll. "Anyway, you should come. And you know what, bring that biker of yours. He was very cool during the whole thing and I wanna treat him to something."

"Fin? I don't know..."

"You haven't seen him after?"

"Once or twice," she admitted. They had met for a trip here and there, talking, mostly. _Mostly. _He never hinted at anything more, not that she had noticed. And that was fine. She was getting used to being on her own. It was good. But a friend never hurt.

"Well call him up. Maybe you'll finally hook up. I have a good feeling about him. You know I have the sixth sense."

"I'll karate crutch you," Ilva growled.

"I'm just looking out for you, and your sexual health. Did you know you get exceedingly grumpy when you're on the dry? Mick noticed too."

"I'll call him if you stop. Please."

Myra grinned.

An exasperated sigh. "You're lucky you're an invalid."

* * *

"To me, drink up me hearties!" Myra called a week later as the group of friends toasted. She then turned to Ilva. "Still nothing?"

"Oh, no. It's fine."

"It is not fine. People should keep their word."

"Lay off Myra, really," and with this Ilva got up and went outside for a breath of fresh air. When they had spoken Fin confirmed he would join. They were well into the evening and there was no sign of him.

_You're bothering with stuff again Day. You said you wouldn't._

The phone rang.

"What."

"Hey. Sorry luv, got caught up in something. You still out?"

"Hey. Yeah, but heading home soon, I don't really feel like staying long-"

"Let me at least get you home. I really am sorry, Ilva."

"No, that's fine!" she added quickly. _No obligations here boy._

"So come to get you?"

"Sure, I'll be ready in about 30 min."

She went back in, finished her drink, said her goodbyes. She was outside just as a familiar head of golden hair came into view. His hair was tied back from his face this time, giving him an even more youthful look.

_Stop staring. _"Fin."

"Ilva," he smiled.

"So what was it that held you up?" she asked before they rode off.

"The usual... business. No use boring you with the details."

_Fine, keep your secrets, weirdo._

They soon reached her block. Dismounting, Ilvana felt something odd nagging at her. An impulse, an unnamed urge for things to not end here.

"Hey," Ilva turned to him, trying her most steady voice. "You wanna come up for a bit? Have that drink?"

_Please say no, please say no, Ilva why did you do it._

_Say yes?_

"It's not too late for you?"

_Oh god._

"Nah, really, I'm good for a drink. Come on," she urged, both relieved and wound tighter than a straitjacket.

"Then why not," he said with half a smile, and the motor died down.

"Here we are," Ilva fumbled with the keys once they were up. Fin entered after her, shutting the door behind him.

"So this is it!" Ilvana beamed a friendly smile, arms spread wide. "Come in, let me show you around." _Nervous in your own home, Day?_

They ended up on the balcony overlooking the street, the weather being forgiving enough to allow the luxury. Ilvana made them drinks - if giving him a straight whiskey counted as making drinks- and eventually started looking at prints of new art that arrived for the shop. Ilva had agreed with Ron to give her some time studying them at home before placing them in the gallery. Surprisingly, the blond knew quite a thing or two about some of them.

"Never took you for an art enthusiast, Fin the biker."

"What one thing defines anyone? And it's just a pastime. My family's always had an eye for it."

_Family. Oh, something personal. Gotta note the date down for posterity._

"Where is your family?" she bit her lip. _Went in for the kill there. Please don't drop me some married/divorced bomb._

"Not here. They prefer quieter places."

_Now that, ladies and gentlemen is a great example of saying something without saying anything at all. Take note. _"My folks didn't get used to the big city either. It somehow grew on me though."

"Settled in, made plans, found someone, etc?"

"Well, yes and no. You met Aaron that one time." They had run into her former fiance on the street once during a walk. It had been appropriately awkward.

"Yes," Fin said blankly, his gaze turned to the clear skies above.

"We were engaged for some time, but then... then things slowly went south. You know how it goes," she eyed him, finding a blank, questioning expression. Slightly puzzled, Ilva carried on either way. "Gotta admit life has been kind of sour for a while now, but it's all bound to change, right?"

"That it is," Fin agreed, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Those things'll kill you," she deadpanned.

Fin snorted as he exhaled, tilting his head to look at her... playfully?

_Hotness levels rising. Ilva behave._

"You... worry for me?"

_That escalated quickly. _"Well no, but- I mean they're bad for everyone, just... saying. Your business, of course." _Stop_ _blabbering, please._ _Twenty-eight. You're twenty-eight years old._ _An adult for Pete's sake._

Just then Nox appeared on the balcony from whatever hiding place she had been dwelling in.

_Nox to the rescue_. "Oh, you haven't met my cat. She's more of a bitch actually, and won't even acknowledge you but she helps me in other ways," she said and rose to go into the kitchen for a corkscrew. "She's like that to anyone, don't take it personally-"

As she spoke, returning Ilvana trailed off, witnessing Nox going straight towards Fin's lowered palm, starting to nuzzle and lick his fingers as his other hand gently stroked her back. He then lifted her into his lap, the animal seemingly putty in his hands as the bastard started to massage into the black fur. He chuckled as the cat arched into his hand.

_There go my ovaries, doing somersaults over each other._

_Crud._

_I... like him_?

She propped herself against the door, arms crossed, watching the beautiful specimen before her, so casual in that v-neck black T-shirt, more youthful and carefree than she'd ever seen him. Granted, she hadn't seen him too many times.

Nox mewled. _Nox you little slut. Not that I can blame you. _"She never does that with complete strangers." She smiled.

"She's a happy animal, and would follow you anywhere," Fin said as he continued to gently scratch Nox behind her ear.

"I'd follow me too if I had food."

"Trust me," Fin said, his eyes still on the cat.

"Alright, Helter Skelter, lay off the New Age magicks," she joked as he lifted his head.

The beams in his eyes were electric. His movements stilled, and Nox slipped away from his lap. He took a sip of his drink and leaned back into the soft armchair, one elbow propped against the armrest. Watching her.

"Are you coming or going? Or do you plan to stand there for the rest of the night?" he smirked.

_The night? Hello, brain fog._ "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. It's your business," Fin smiled smugly, echoing her words from earlier.

_Man_ _, is this tension or am I going nuts? Is he trying to tell me something?_

_Well, one way to find out._

Emboldened she righted herself from the door and uncrossed her arms, making her way towards him. Reaching closer Ilva leaned over as he sat there, so relaxed, drinking from his whiskey and laying _that_ look on her again. His face and that damn smile were nothing if not encouragement to her mind.

_So I'm no expert_ _ but that is not the usual way to stare at people. _ _He looks... wanting? Come on Day, move it._

Eyes on his, Ilva propped her hands on either side of the armchair, hovering over him. _Damn, I don't even need to try for a fuck-me look. He just has that effect on me._ _Bugger, Myra__ was right. I need this._

Fin was studying her, his smirk tighter than before. "What are you doing?" he asked then, though in a way that made her wonder as it was at odds with how he'd been looking at her - like he knew exactly what she was doing.

-_You -, would__ be nice. But guess I gotta work for that. _"Nothing if you don't want to," she said instead. _Cringe, Ilva. But yeah, we're adults, if he says no we'll both just carry on, it should be fine._ _This is fine._

To his credit Fin made no movement to draw back from her or seem affected by her proximity. Instead, he leaned forward so suddenly Ilvana flinched, fighting the urge to fall back as his face came to be mere inches from hers. Then his eyes hardened.

_This is not fine._

"When you look at me, who do you see?" came the strangely uttered question.

_What now? _Not exactly the direction she expected. But Ilvana thought about this for a few seconds, following the way his eyes roamed over her features. "Someone I'm drawn to without really understanding why," she said truthfully in the end.

"Exactly," Fin offered before averting his eyes and slowly standing from the armchair.

Ilvana moved from his way. _Ouch._

He placed the lighter in his jean pocket and started towards where he had his jacket.

"Someone I want to know better," Ilva found herself saying. _I'll be damned if I don't at least tell you._

Fin stopped his movements just as she hesitatingly closed the distance between them again.

"Someone I want to understand," she said when she was in front of him. _Shit, I probably look desperate._

"Ilva-,"

Bolder than she ever remembered, Ilvana reached and placed her fingers to his lips. _Day what are you doing, what are you doing, apply yourself NOW._ But she found it hard to move away and the look in his eyes, pulling her in like a flame, only made her want to do more of it.

"_Let_ me understand you?" she asked, eyes wide and honest.

A hand wrapped around her wrist, gently but firmly pulling hers away.

_He looks as if this hurts him. Dude, I only want to give to you, I don't want to take._

When he suddenly took her face in his palms Ilvana drew a sharp breath. He was so close her pulse started to run. "You can't, not if you don't understand yourself." With that, he released her and went to put his boots on.

Hurt flicked through her, ego rebelling. _What is that supposed to mean? Turned into Osho now too?_ "I don't follow?" she asked, annoyed at how her voice ran off a little.

Fin stood and approached her again. His hands were heavy on her shoulders, radiating heat she needed. "Ilva, trust me when I say, I think more time is needed."

Her brow crinkled. "More time for me or for _you_? Let's be fair here," she drew away. _Why__ am I so wound up? Pathetic. _They hung out, sure, but nothing more. _Why am I having expectations when I shouldn't? Again. _But it only made her temper rise. Angry at herself, at having been so silly.

Fin looked at her meaningfully and with what seemed to be sadness.

_Confusion levels: Chernobyl._

"I know this will not help much, but it is all I can do. Here the allowance of time works differently for you and I. It all depends on you."

Ilvana was taken aback by that different tone and enunciation. It left a strange sensation in her stomach and a strong impression in her chest. She also felt more confused than ever by the completely nonsensical words he kept saying to her.

"Depends on me... to what? What d'you want from me, Fin? I'm who I am and nothing more."

He only stared at her a moment longer before turning to the door.

"You know you could just say you're not interested instead of shucking out this crap, it's really fine, I can take it. I prefer honesty," the words spilled before she could rein them.

His hand was on the door handle. Fin shook his head in a vague smile, making her want to throw something at him. "I promise you will get nothing but. You will grow to know my meaning. I hope. Good night Ilva."

Again, that tone, that different voice. _I guess I'll stop calling you, then. Way to go Ilvana._

"I'll call you next week if you're free," he said. And with that, he was off, and the door rang shut behind him.

"Confusing freaking disturber of the peace. _My _peace of _mind_ !" the woman muttered to her cat, who dutifully proceeded to ignore her.

_Every time, it was he who called on me. And he just wants... to hang out?_

Confused, Ilvana plopped down onto the couch. His hand on her wrist. His face close to hers. She groaned, loathing her stubborn brain.

But the sod was right. She didn't even know how old he was. What was his full name? He rarely spoke of himself. He was still pretty much a stranger to her, in the truest sense of the word.

_Wait a minute. Why am I wasting energy on this? Things will end up the same way they would anyway. Not like I'm hurrying somewhere. _Sure, his reaction hurt her ego, that was natural. But she still, somehow, liked to have him around. Not for the first time, Ilvana thought she would pay anything to know just why that was.


	9. Chapter 9

Beyond the rings of planets and the circles of worlds there was silence.

He stood in spirit, resting on his knees in the endless darkness, stars alight. He waited, histories unfolding behind his eyes. He was alone for seconds, hours, days unnumbered until a light brimmed within; the love of creation and perpetuating life.

_"You have found your vessel."_

_"I have, my lord," he replied in thought._

_"And the other?"_

_"Nay, my lord. It has not entered my sight."_

_"The path is to seal soon. The breach must not remain. Hasten, quendë. Little time is left to you."_

_"Aye, my lord."_

Bright eyes opened to the world, and the sound of busy streets once more filled his senses.

* * *

Ilvana stood with elbows propped against the counter, expression blank.

_"You will know my meaning."_

She scoffed. _Bull. Bullshit for gullible birds._

As with any failure, the tendency was to dwell. Ilvana wanted to not think back and ruminate on her utterly failed encounter with Fin - if that was even his name -, but it proved increasingly difficult. Even with the passing of days which soon turned into a week.

No sign from him.

_Figures._ She willed away the thought.

"Ilvana?"

"Uh, yes? Sorry Ron, were you saying something?"

The director of Narmo art smiled kindly with a shadow of gentle teasing. "I was asking whether you moved the Kryndlers upstairs."

"I did. Sorry I was-"

"...lost in thought. Something eating you?" Ron asked and Ilvana felt a sincere type of concern lacing his words.

She never could get completely used to those intense beams for eyes, but Ilvana smiled back nevertheless. "No, nothing of importance, really."

Ron leaned with one elbow against the counter, his gaze set on the view of the street. "If it makes you not hear when people are speaking to you, then it is important," he uttered lightly.

Ilva sighed. Why did he of all people care to know so much? She caught his eye as Ron turned fully towards her. His skin was that of a Vichy model. Hell, they'd be out of a job with this guy around. Were his eyes always so bright? Ilvana stood silent, somehow words caught in her throat, her mind felt drenched in fog.

"Tell me, Ilvana," she saw him mouth the words, but did not hear them. His brassy hair was haloed in the sunset light and shone of copper as bright as his eyes.

"Yes..." Ilva said, her voice sounding far away before she regained her focus. "Well...," she leaned against the counter. "This is going to sound silly. You ever met someone you could just never really crack?"

Ron released her from his gaze, leaving her feeling somewhat dizzy. He seemed to be thinking. "Depends on what you mean by _cracking_."

"I've known this guy, for some time now. He appeared so suddenly in my life and I'll say he has helped me at times, in quite important matters. But when I attempt to get closer, he pushes me away so vehemently my head is throbbing. It's a cliche, but at times I don't understand your lot. No offense-" she added quickly.

"I see. Hey, listen. There's not much going on today. Why do_ you_ not take the rest of the day off?"

"Wha- no, that's nepotism. I won't go for it!"

"I told you, not a 9 to 5. Now scramble along," he drew closer to her face, "and get your thoughts in order. Maybe you will actually find a resolution, who's to know." His smile became a pretty, beguiling thing.

Ilva suddenly felt what she hadn't felt before around Ron. Interest.

"Uhm, thank you then, that's very kind of you. But on one condition."

"Which is?"

"Would you like to join me?"

* * *

"You mean to tell me you were OUT with your BOSS? Talk about hypocritical. _Myra, stop flirting with my boss, Myra,_" Myra drawled on the phone.

"Pipe down, Myr, it wasn't like that. We just talked. He's good company. Why avoid people who are simply pleasant to be around? Isn't that a loss?"

"Right. It just sounds so... unusual, coming from you.

"Maybe I'm changing, stick around for the new Ilva."

"What about the blond?"

"What about him."

"It just looked like you two had something going, is all."

"_'Looked like'_ is a good way of putting it."

"Oh well, your bed, make it, sleep in it etc. I'm off. I have a full day's journey to the bathroom in these crutches."

Ilva smiled. "Bye, Myra."

* * *

Come the night, it all returned with newfound force. Flame and ruin everywhere. Cries of woe, faces full of terror, beings running in despair. _She_ was running. Someone held her hand. A horn sounded in the distance. She followed through a narrow path, an abysmal nothingness to her left. A terrible roar, filling her with dread and freezing her with fear.

_"Idril, Tuor... make haste!"_ someone cried then. She turned to see who it was, but was taken by the crashing wave of fire and steel and figures. She knew that voice. She tried to find its speaker among the mayhem, but saw nothing.

Fire scorched her clothes, the stench of death filled her nostrils.

She cried. At the abomination before her, a great fire engulfing darkness. At the sight of his raised sword, his charging against the mighty flame. She called for him desperately in her mind, feeling abandoned and angry all at once, unable to tear her eyes away, straining to conjure something. What it was, she did not know as it did not come.

In the battle before her she merely saw flashes, and fire consuming all. The one she sought was so far away she could not see him clearly. She barely caught sight of gleaming armor and a blackened sword. Someone beckoned her to come, but she did not move. The terrible flame then faltered in a deadly swoon, falling into the abyss. On her knees, she saw the fair one follow.

* * *

Ilva was being carried away by her thoughts, her mind full of the nightmare she had the night before.

_Let's see... what does fire and fall signify in psychotherapy_. She was scrolling through her phone. This one had been no different from the others. Vivid, leaving its mark on her mood well into the day. And then there were the names. _Idril, Tuor...now where did my broken ass mind get those? _She had never known anyone called that, not in her known memory. _Hmm maybe I'm slowly but surely losing it._

As she stood with her phone in her hand it started to ring.

_Great. When it suits you._

"Yeah."

"You don't sound too happy."

"What is it, Fin?"

"Well, I only wanted to ask if you're up for a trip? Later today."

_A trip alright. We're going to settle this, this, whatever it is - once and for all._

"Ilva?"

"Yeah. Sure. Hey could we head out straight from my work? I have to stay a bit later today so won't stop by my place."

"No problem. Give me the address."

The day went on, slowly, painfully slowly. She wasn't looking forward to seeing him again, that was for sure. _Course, Day, here's your ticket to Denial, a river in Egypt._

The bell rang, someone entered.

"So this is where you work," she looked up, saw golden hair. Her heart fluttered annoyingly fast. _Damnit._

But his expression was strange. Fin looked nothing if not ill at ease, and seemed to look about him for something.

_Hey, I'm here. Ilva, you know, the chick you keep brushing off?_ "Not to your liking?"

Fin hesitated, like someone who wanted to say something but was constrained. "No."

"Ok, then." _Has his jerk mode on today. This'll be fun. _"Hey if you don't mind, wait for me out here, I have to finish something in the back- oh look, there's my boss."

She looked to Fin, whose expression morphed into something unreadable as his eye caught Ron, slowly descending the stairs.

"Good day," Ron smiled to both as he neared the counter.

Fin did not smile.

Ron reached and touched Ilva's shoulder, squeezing lightly. She didn't pull away, and didn't notice Fin's hands ball into fists either. "Thanks for the help today. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh pshaw, stop it," she returned his smile. "This is my... friend, Fin," she motioned to the blond who was still standing there with that unsettling expression. _Odd. _"Be right back." With this Ilva left them for the back room.

When they were alone, Ron leaned against the counter, palms flat on either side of him, facing Fin.

"You." The blond's gaze changed into something terrible, both surprise and anger mingled together.

Ron looked about himself before eyeing the other. He spoke but did not speak. Fin heard the voice in his mind, grating. "Well met, Noldo."

"How." The blond growled, a myriad of connections suddenly fusing together.

"I should ask you the same thing? Not even here in a parallel realm can I be free of you Firstborn, can I?"

"I do not know how you managed to escape through the lines, but I warn you-"

"Nothing but threats. No wonder you and I never saw eye to _eye_," Ron grinned.

Taking in the silence of the one before him and seemingly realizing something, Ron sneered. And with that his features started to change. It would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. Eyes aglow with a dark orange flame, pupils turning into slits, grin widening frightfully to reveal a fanged mouth, features twisting in darkness that would send any living being running. His face soon bore blackened markings that trailed from his chin to his eyes, dark runes once laid upon him by his master.

"These glamours take a lot from me, you see. And you and I are no strangers to each other."

The other grimaced in disgust.

"Well, nevertheless, it seems we both found what we were looking for. But the best of luck achieving your goal..." He tapped a blackened clawed finger against the counter. "But you are not using your advantage," narrowed eyes shimmered in a deathly glow. "For the death of me I cannot comprehend why you do not awaken her-"

He paused, taking in the other's silence.

"You _cannot_," he said in mock surprise. "You are not _allowed_," Ron hissed even as the other's face became darker. "Your precious Valar, as usual, laid a condition upon you." He sighed facetiously. "They never change, do they. There is always a price, an exchange of some sort. At least Melkor was brutally honest. You knew well ahead what you would receive and what you would not. What was it this time?"

"You have no place in this world, you will ruin yourself for trying," the elf spat, his mind on Ilvana, and how she was just steps away from _it._

Ron ignored his words, still pondering. "What would they do... perhaps she has to awaken to you on her own? Is that it? Oh, such fairness lines their punishment! And what if she does not? What if someone else were to hasten that process? Now let us see...," the Shadow tapped a clawed finger against his chin.

"I will do away with you the same way you were done away with before, if I must," the elf took one step towards the darkened one.

"Oh but you did not expect me, did you? This puts all sorts of jolts in your plan. So, what would happen if she awakens before time?"

"I will end you if you so much as touch the ground she walks on," and by the state of him one could not doubt the conviction of his words.

The lord of wolves huffed scornfully. "Weak threats. Come now, Laurefindil. We are both attuned to the laws of this world. You are dwindled here, naught but a shadow."

"So are you," the elf gritted.

"Well, yes. But I still have my skill of persuasion... and something else. Besides, Ilvanya likes me. I make her feel safe. Did you know she opened to me the other day? These mortal coils make souls weak and wanton," his rictus spread like wildfire.

His insides withered with dread but to his credit, the elf made no show of it. "You lie."

"She was very distraught with this... figure in her life as well. Said you are confusing her. Oh yes, I know it is you. But you can imagine I will support her, and give her... everything she needs. She suffers the same weakness I sensed within her _before_, mind you. You don't have much time," the dark presence grinned.

The elf's fists tightened, a wrathful light suddenly about him.

"I would be wary of shows of power here, Laurefindil of Ondolindë," the Shadow hissed the last word. "You know the conditions. Eternal ban results from using powers and laws not of this realm. The Universe is unwavering in its rules, that which not even Eru Ilúvatar can bend. I assume you _do_ want to see her again? "

"I have faced foes far greater than you, Shadow. Even in Arda your power wanes."

They both heard Ilvana coming towards the front.

"That remains to be seen," slit pupils flickered snakelike before returning to their former shape.

"I'm ready." Ilva called as she made her way to the counter. She looked between the two of them. "Fin? Shall we?"

"Go on, luv, I'm coming," the blond replied though his eyes locked on Ron.

Eyebrow raised, Ilvana turned to her employer, offering him a most dazzling smile which made the elf's insides wrench. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Ron smiled. "Maybe take you out for a drink?"

"Err..." _Really, now?_ Mildly unsettled, she gazed sideways at Fin. "Sure, hey we'll see. Talk to you then." And she went through the door.

Left alone once more, the other threw the elf a haughty smile. But then he was upon the dark one, grasping a full fist of his blazer.

"Stay _away_ from her Sauron!" he growled lowly and breathlessly. "If anything happens to her there will be _no_ place you can hide, I will hunt you down like the dog that you are-"

Steel fangs glistened, claws were upon his fisted hand, digging into his flesh. "Careful, elf," the Shadow hissed. "You forget whom you are facing. You cannot watch over her the entire time, _Fin_. And these human bodies are so fragile, are they not," he followed silkily.

The elf released the one once called Mairon with a shove, ignoring his bloodied knuckles. With one last threatening look he turned hastily towards the shop exit. His face was enough of a reason to worry Ilva when she saw him.

"...are you good?"

"Let's go," he said harshly, raising a red flag in her mind.

"Hey what happened to your hand?"

No reply.

_Well, this is new. And worrying. _"You can just drop me home if you don't feel like hanging out anymore," Ilvana said as she dropped into the seat, "It's fine- heeeey!" He took off so suddenly she had to grab on for dear life. "Fin, what the hell!"

No answer.

"Listen, you have to tell me what's up," she said when they stopped and dismounted, and Ilva was following him as he walked, the rage plain on his face. _Scary much?_ "You know what, maybe it's best I went home-"

He rounded on her then. "Ilva. You have to quit that job."

"Wha-" her mouth dropped agape. _Weirdness__ levels rising. _He wasn't serious? His eyes were narrowed and a blazing deep blue fire, that lovely mouth a thin line. He _was_ serious. Then her own temper flared. "I_ have_ to? I don't _have_ to do anything. Least of all listen to you," Ilvana pushed an accusing finger against his chest, "stranger with no clear purpose in my life, whom I haven't even seen in over a week!"

He clamped his jaw shut, ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Seemed to want to say something.

"What are you talking about?" Ilva urged, needing so much to hear some sense from him. This sudden display of a foul mood and his vehement request were starting to unsettle her deeply. _Have I really stumbled upon a nut? Shit, serves me right._

"Ilvana, I've never before been so serious. You don't believe me, and I know what I say sounds insane. But can you trust me? I mean it when I say that you need to stay away from that place. And from him."

"From _Ron_?" she thought about the person who was nothing if not laid back, open and honest. One who had shown her nothing but kindness ever since she started working for him. "You know him from somewhere?"

"Yes."

"That's it? How about an explanation?" she crossed her arms.

"Again, you won't believe me but you're... not safe, around him. You're in danger, Ilva."

She scoffed at that, shaking her head. "Yeah, in danger of being utterly confused. What are you babbling about?"

"Ilva, please," his tone was different. "We'll find you another job-"

"We?" she quipped, eyes narrowing, arms spread. "There is no _We_. You've made that quite clear last time."

He gritted his teeth, lowered his head. For one split moment Ilvana thought she saw an angry blueish-white light flare from within his very being. She blinked when he spoke again, sounding so different to moments ago. Resigned, grave. "I wish, more than anything to share with you everything. But I cannot. I told you before-"

"Yeah, yeah. _It all depends__ on you, Ilva. _Honestly, in this moment you only sound like someone who's a few bricks short of a full load of _crazy! _And I'm sick of it, sick of you confusing me, but not letting me be either. So it's either you start making sense or leave me the hell alone to live my life like a normal person!"

He listened to her, eyes tightly shut.

"Well? What are we doing here?" Ilvana asked calmly, the budding anger having spent her. She also regretted lashing at him, but it was too late now.

"I cannot see for you," the elf repeated his line, the one she hated, the only one he had.

"Ugh!" she threw her arms up in the air. "You know what, I'll take a cab home. See ya."

"Ilva..." the elf called in a placating manner, though his words trailed away into nothing.

"Or maybe not," Ilvana mumbled as she strode away from him, brows furrowed and chest heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'quendë' (sg, Quenya)= 'One That Speaks'
> 
> Laurefindil (Quenya) = Glorfindel
> 
> Ondolindë (Quenya) = Gondolin


	10. Chapter 10

"So, you're telling me you prefer Picasso's blue period to the cubist one? Sacrilege of the foulest kind!"

Ron smiled. A smile Ilva found entrancing when partnered with those bright, amber eyes.

_'You're in danger around him.'_

She shook the preposterous words away. _Damn Blondie and his nonsensical lines._

"To each his own," he replied then, pupils dilating slightly as he stared into hers. It made him appear even more otherwordly than usual in the chiaroscuro lighting of the small wine bar they were in. _So what if he's my boss. Nothing wrong with a bit of socializing. Right._

True to his intent the day before, Ron had invited Ilva for a drink the following evening. And she accepted, not only because she liked his company, but also since she needed the distraction in filtering out the way she had left things with Fin. She had been in a low mood the entire day following his unusual outburst and it showed. An urge to prove him wrong, and to strengthen her own belief that there was nothing wrong with the man before her. Sure, there were psychos and sickos all around, but she thought she was generally a good judge of character.

Generally.

_When sober. Ugh, why am I even considering the weirdo's words? Shake it off Day._

"Ilva, you are miles away."

She looked sheepishly at Ron who was casually sipping from his red wine and giving her an amused look. "I'm sorry. It's just, some things..."

"Anything I can help with?"

_Are you a certified therapist on bipolar disorders?_ "I don't think so," she looked into her glass. She could feel his gaze on her, but somehow failed to lift her head. Her hand slipped from her glass.

"You may be right, but still I'd like you to have a good time, if I can help it."

She closed her eyes. Next she felt his hand on hers. _Freezing._

"D'you know," her lips quivered, spreading into a dastardly grin "that you have the coldest hands I have ever felt?"

His own smile didn't falter, but he removed his hand. "In some cultures, young lady, cold hands are considered a sign of unrepentant honesty."

"Way to turn it around," Ilva sipped from her own wine, eyeing him. His hair shone fiery in the backlit space they were in.

Crystal clear eyes full of fury. _'Stay away from him.'_

"Speaking of honesty." She looked up at Ron, finding an expectant face. "Do you remember the guy who picked me up yesterday?"

Ron blinked. "Ah, yes. Your... friend." He looked at her meaningfully, and it seemed to her that predatory aura she had previously noted about him was back.

"Yes. Do you know him, by any chance?"

Ron seemed only slightly confused.

_Good sign?_

"Not... that I can remember, no." He leaned back in his chair, looking her square in the eye. "I mean I've traveled so much, been at so many events in the past years. Who's to say? Why do you ask?"

Ilvana wasn't sure why, but somehow her mind would not allow a full disclosure.

"He mentioned he knew you, is all. I was curious to know where from."

"I see. But he didn't say anything to me about it in the shop, for example. Did he give you any other detail that might help me remember?"

She hesitated, only briefly but enough for him to catch it. "No, not really. Hey, anyway," she looked at her phone, "I should be going-"

"Have an early start tomorrow? Your boss working you too hard?"

She threw her head back and laughed at that, feeling even more drawn to him. Maybe it was the wine. She shook her head at the mirthful spark in his eye.

"I actually feel... quite tired. Not sure why, but all I want right now is a soft bed to throw myself onto, and just disappear."

"I know the kind," he nodded understandingly. "Alright let's get the check then."

They went together outside, the streets around them buzzing with nightlife.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he faced her, eyes alight with something she could not discern.

"You'll have to, won't you," Ilva smirked at him. Since he was much taller she had to crane her neck up to look at him.

"Are you good for a cab?"

"Oh, no I think I'll just walk it out this time." She looked at her phone. 10:30 PM. "We're not that far from Central Park and it's still open. I think I'll cut through there to get home. Help me sleep better and all." _And keep those pesky dreams at bay, I hope._ Lately these worried her more and more, the tragic scenes leaving a mark on her waking life. She often felt as if she was on the edge of a precipice, with no clear view of what lay beyond it.

Ron nodded. "Be careful though, it's still Central Park, and it's dark outside."

"You won't get rid of me that easily. Besides," she pulled a small can from her bag. "Pepper spray. A lesson learned."

Ron chuckled. "Very well then, brave one," he grinned, those amber eyes boring into hers. It sent a strange chill down her spine, and she tried to ignore the unpleasant pressure making its way into her chest.

_Fin._

_What._

_Shut up brain._

_You need him here._

_No._

"Good night," she greeted nevertheless before they both went their separate ways.

"Good night, Ilvana," Ron said as the young woman turned away, eyes narrowing with a snakelike flicker of their dark centers.

Ilvana walked until she reached the park and she proceeded through. It was always nice to experience the shift in surroundings once you came here. From tall, sky brushing buildings and incessant noise into the calming safety of trees and silence. The lights were dim, the skies clear. It was starting to be chilly this time of the year but she didn't mind. As she walked Ilva found her thoughts slowly stilled, her mind clearing, and all she focused on was her measured stride.

She had just passed a bridge when she heard what sounded like footsteps behind her. Turning around by instinct to see who it was, she saw nothing. _Looks like I've started hearing things too._ Eyebrow raised, she surveyed the surrounding trees and area a moment longer before moving on again.

She walked for no more than ten minutes when she heard it again. The sound of distant footsteps, but this time accompanied by what sounded like vague hissing.

Mildly unsettled, she stopped walking, her hand reaching in her handbag for the pepper spray. She listened. The foreign footsteps stopped. _Ok, breathe Ilva. You're either insane or someone's out there. Neither which is good, but you can do this._

And so Ilvana turned again to see if anyone was there but could discern nothing amidst the darkened boughs. Not wasting any time she started walking again, her steps faster than before. It was not long before the foreign sounds made themselves known once more but this time worryingly close. The hissing grew in magnitude scraping against her ears and fogging her mind. Her heartbeat quickening, she lengthened her stride even more. Then the hissing grew into a screech making her jump out of her wits with fear.

_What the-_

_Ok, screw this-_

She bolted into a run, sparing no glance back. The sound of footsteps disappeared only to be drowned by the screeching growing higher and higher, and the blood pounding in her ears.

The faster she ran, the closer it all seemed. She dared to turn her head, and almost tripped over her own feet when her eyes beheld-

Nothing but shadows. Still discernible even in the faint streetlights, they seemed to hover, menacingly, towards her. Now desperate with fear Ilva was running as fast as her legs took her. _What the shit, what the hell, that's not real. It can't be real. It can't be..._ She heard it again, except now there seemed to be multiple sources of the same blood curdling sound. Nearing closer, and closer, closer still.

_What fucking kind of Stephen King crap is this?! Oh fuck, oh shit-_

She tripped in her haste, stumbling and falling onto her hands and knees. She scrambled back up and started running again.

"Help! Anybody there? Help!" she yelled to anyone who might hear, but the area seemed deserted.

At one point she must have abandoned the path in her haste, as now the lights were dimmer and farther away. Ilvana ran between the changing trees, a lost deer running from an unseen hunter.

_What if it's all in my head. What if I stop and this all stops?_ But her fear was real, and would not allow her to stop so she carried on faster. Suddenly she discerned hooves pounding heavily against the ground. Ilva turned briefly and to her utter horror she saw the shadows had materialized into a group of riders, their dark horses gaining on her.

She screamed and continued her attempt to escape, desperately praying to anyone or anything to come to her aid. As she did Ilvana lost track of her surroundings, not noticing the thickening canopy of trees nor the increasingly irregular terrain. She failed to notice the disappearing lights and darkness engulfing all. The trees were higher and denser than anything she remembered of this place.

She was tiring. She tried to go on but those things were nearly upon her. Still the young woman pressed on, her direction zigzagging as she tried to lose her pursuers, looking for the streetlights to find only darkness. Brambles caught in her hair, branches scraped her face. _What the fuck is this, where the hell am I_\- a terrible roar paralyzed any cohesive thought. Her limbs trembled with exhaustion and despite her efforts she tripped over a tree branch, landing face front onto the ground.

They found her. They would reach her soon. Eyes widening, she saw them approach and with horror noticed the shadowed robes they wore, the mail armor adorning their limbs, the faceless voids that were their heads.

"What do you want from me?" Ilvana called to her pursuers, scrambling back from them onto the ground, turning and trying to run again, breathless and limping. Her waking mind made no sense of it all, and she could do nothing but stutter like a broken record that this wasn't possible, this wasn't real. She soon fell back down, her knees buckling together. Just as Ilvana tried to rise she heard the neighing and hoof beats of another horse. Her head swiveled to look behind her.

A white steed had appeared between herself and the frightening apparitions, its rider shielded from her view, facing those things.

_Oh my fuck-_

Was that a sword? The new presence was clad in strange clothes of white and grey. Ilvana discerned a cloak, vambraces and high boots, unbound fair hair. He exuded a strange sort of light which seemed to go against the darkness she was caught in. Against _their_ darkness.

"Eca cenienyallo, nortor!" the apparition then called harshly, his sword raised menacingly towards the others, the words new and foreign to her ears.

_Fuck this, oh god, oh god-_

That voice? Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Ilvana thought she knew that timbre. Deciding she was not about to wait around to see whatever was to happen Ilva used the distraction to try and get away, her heart pounding in her ears. Far, far away from the nightmare that was this. But she soon fell again, her mind in tatters, her body trembling. She crashed to the ground surrounded by the smell of dry leaves and humid earth.

It was soon quiet and the screeches had ceased. Ilvana was barely conscious but still heard the crackling sounds of leaves under footsteps.

"Please...," she managed, fearing the riders finally had her trapped. "I don't have anything you may want, I'm nobody..."

A hand was on her shoulder. A hand, not a clawed gauntlet. Her breathing was the loudest sound discernible now in the bleak darkness.

"Áva þorya," someone whispered, and she felt a familiar flowery scent fill her senses.

That voice again.

"Fin?..." she called weakly, before her eyes closed and she drifted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Eca cenienyallo, nortor!' = 'Out of my way, horrors!' (Quenya)
> 
> 'Áva þorya' = 'Do not be afraid' (Quenya)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Hi there! Time for a few things I feel need to be mentioned:
> 
> 1\. I do not own anything pertaining to the Tolkien canon, and make 0 profit from it (if you don't count the joy of people reading this). This is just for fun and exploration of AU themes.
> 
> 2\. The main filter this fic is driven through is romance. This will soon become more apparent. Also, it will be a short to mid length type of fic.
> 
> 3\. In this fic there is no 'an author named Tolkien wrote about all of this and it's a story in our world, but reality in another' type concept. There are no works by Tolkien in the 'modern world' side of the AU. Arda is treated as a parallel world in existence, with its own governing laws and peoples. Don't you just love fan fiction?

She could not see, her vision swaying, her body meandering in a state of fitful unrest. Someone was carrying her. The calming murmur of a waterfall sounded in the distance.

Voices. Some unknown, some familiar. Lilting sounds she did not understand, and yet did.

"How did she transcend onto the path?"

"I believe she unknowingly tore through and crossed. The nine were on her tracks. He has also found her and is trying to force the awakening."

"She must be returned. It is not her time."

The voices trailed away, and Ilva heard no more.

She was aware of herself again, and at peace. This time she was somewhere else. Ilvana discerned the beautiful tune of a flute melody, sounding farther and farther away. She had heard it so many times before. More distant voices, fading into silence.

She was not alone. She was happy, happier than she ever remembered. Warm fingers feathered over her skin, slowly and tenderly. She longed for the pressure of this touch, the sweet scent so known to her. Her body arched into the soothing caress as warm lips tasted her, softly at first; then deeper, leaving her breathless with yearning. Her heart was bursting with joy and need. She felt soft skin under her fingertips-

"Ilvana," someone called, tearing the woman out of her reverie.

Ilva blearily opened her eyes. Everything hurt. Her vision clearing, she saw a golden head of hair and met clear, striking eyes. Eyes filled with worry. _Yep, it's Fin alright. Mr. Confu-sius himself._ She noticed the blond was seated on the floor next to the couch she reclined on, wearing a grey tshirt and jeans. Legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees.

"I feel like a ton of bricks," she joked, her first impulse being to smile at him.

Fin made no reply. Instead he reached, tentatively as if not to scare her, and placed his palm over her forehead. He needn't have worried. Ilvana closed her eyes, finding his touch the most soothing out of anything she had ever felt. _Why does this feel so familiar. _Then in a haze she recalled her dream. A warm blush crept up her face. _Imagining things again and dreaming about what you can't have, Day._

"You went through a great fright. It'll take some time to recover," he was saying.

"Fin," she called, a bit too needy she thought, feeling his hand still on her forehead, moving down to her cheek. _Oh this feels... good._

"Yes?..." the blond asked absently, focused on the gentle motion of his fingers gliding along her face.

_Oh brother, I really need to be touched by someone if this is all it takes to wind me up. __No, not by someone. By him, _Ilvana thought belatedly. And then there was the dream again; that touch, like a memory but so much like this. _Yep, like a horny freaking teen alright. Focus. _"Where am I? How long have I been out?..."

"At my place. A little over three days," Fin replied in the same tone as before, his hand keeping to its soothing motions.

"Three _days? _What the-_" _then with a sudden jolt of memory she recalled the recent happenings.

"You... How? I don't... remember it all. Shadows- I must be going nuts, Fin. Something was chasing me, something I couldn't let catch me. What happened? I was running, you... YOU?!" Then something clicked. "It was you! On a horse! On a horse? What the hell- " Ilva bolted upright suddenly, causing him to draw his hand away. And they faced each other in sharp contrast - she, eyes wide and with suspicion lacing her features. And he, a saddened expression about him, his composure restrained and pensive.

"How come _you_ were there?"

"Would you rather I hadn't been?" he asked dryly.

Her mouth dropped agape and fear, anger and confusion stuck needles into her mind all at the same time until she felt it was about to implode. Ilvana covered her eyes with her palms briefly, breathed in. Breathed out. "Listen to me now and listen good. I hope, I really hope I'm not going stark raving mad here. Though the other option is just as terrifying and since you seem to be in the loop with all of this, you better fucking start explaining who you are, what the hell you want from me and what is happening or else-"

"Ilvana."

"What?"

"I will try."

Her anger subsiding despite herself, she crossed her arms and waited, glaring at him. "Well?"

Fin looked at her for another moment, then sighed.

_Come on dude, how bad can it be?_

"Don't you want some tea or coffee first?"

_Real bad._

"Sure. Tea works," Ilva chose to play along, looking around the place as the blond went towards the kitchen corner. A clean, spacious studio apartment with wide windows overlooking the city. _Hmmph, talk about riches. Who really is this guy?_

Hedged by curiosity Ilva rose from the couch slowly, wanting to unwind her legs. She walked towards the windows, but her eye was caught by a glimmering object placed on a simple horizontal stand. A sword.

_A sword?! _The sword in the rider's hand... in _his_ hand. _Damn, where did I leave my pepper spray?_ Still Ilva approached, drawn to the beautiful piece of craftsmanship; marveling at the intricate design, the gold and silver detail on the hilt and the elegance of the embellished sheath placed beneath the weapon. The mirrorlike sheen of the blade. Tentatively she reached-

"I'd be careful with that, it's quite sharp," his voice startled her, stopping her movements. Turning she found Fin observing her from across the room, tea in hand.

"Yours, I presume."

He nodded.

"Not a collection item, I presume?"

"No."

_Wonderful. _"Alrighty then," Ilva muttered sarcastically as she went to him and took the offered tea, seating herself back onto the couch, leaning forward. "So, tell me."

The blond lowered himself onto the floor again, legs crossed under him, facing Ilva.

_Why does he look so sheepish? Jeez dude, it's my life that's like ten Twilight Zones into one right now, not yours._

"What I'm about to tell you will sound preposterous, but I ask you to be open - and keep in mind what followed you, and how real it was."

Unease slithered up her spine. "I'll... try."

"You are aware of the concept of parallel worlds."

_Already I'm beginning to regret this. _She nodded.

"I know that here, that is not considered a reality, and there is no clear evidence to it. But there is such a world, among others, governed by rules just as yours is; with different strains of life, just like yours. With beliefs, deities, the concepts of good and evil. With wars. As is yours."

Ilvana tried not to look at him like he was a nut. She failed.

"Your world-" Fin went on.

"Do you have to call it that?" _So he means to say he's not from 'my world'?_

"Your world," he stressed, "is governed by its own laws of physics and existence. Similar laws govern this other realm, but some you would call magic, as they do not exist nor convene properly here."

"Magic."

"Yes."

"Can I see your white card? Just want to check the diagnosis."

"Ilva, you wanted me to explain," he threw her a stern look. "If you aren't open to this then-"

"No! Fine, go on." _Oh god he _is _a nut._

Fin took an intake of breath. "There is a great evil stirring again in this other world, one which has found its way here."

"Why?" _Might as well go along with it._

"I'm not entirely sure. But it definitely wanted to find _you_."

"Me?" she huffed incredulously. "What the hell am I good to them in this _other_ world?"

"Not to this other world, to any. Ilvana, this human body is a vessel, encasing your soul. Your soul, which has the ability to travel through temporary set paths between worlds. It's something few beings can achieve, and not without significant effort and repercussions."

Ilvana couldn't listen to this any longer. This crazy dribble. "Fin, your words are scaring me very much right now, and so are you."

"I asked you to keep an open mind," his striking eyes held hers, and there was nothing but honesty there. It made her even more unsettled.

"Fine. Assuming... assuming I'm as insane as you are, and think all this is true, what does this 'evil' want from me?"

"The logical assumption would be to use you for the ability to travel freely between realms. To increase its power."

Ilva scoffed at the word 'logical' being thrown into the mix. She blinked. "You're telling me my life is nothing short of a freaking fantasy novel? Are you really going to sell me this shit? Who were those damned riders?"

"His henchmen. He's terrorizing you into remembering."

"What does _that_ mean? Remember what?"

"It means, you and I are from the same place. But you, you've been reembodied. Here."

"Clear as mud," she deadpanned.

"You have no memories of who or what you were before," Fin continued despite her obvious disbelief. "And it's not my place to reveal it. That should happen in time. Time we have little of, unfortunately."

_This is completely insane. Oh god, he looks serious. I hope I can make it to the door if he tries anything._

"_We?_"

Fin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ilva. All of this is something you should have discovered in your own time."

She tried to think. _Evil, soul, parallel realm. _"So when you appeared there, looking... different..."

"You had somehow crossed the lines between our realms. I sensed and found you in time."

Ilvana was massaging her brow. "And how did that happen?"

"I don't have all the answers, Ilva. But your fear may have driven you to tear through. They have little power in this world, and were trying to hedge you into theirs."

"So are there more of you from there... into here?" Ilvana wondered just how much farther he could take this unworldly story. She had never met a compulsive liar before.

"I thought I was the only one. Until I saw _him._"

"The evil," Ilva said blankly.

"And I asked you to stay away from him."

_Oh not this again_. Ilvana took another route. "Why did you appear so... different, over there?"

At this she noticed his expression morph into one of wistfulness. "That was my true self. In this realm the laws change us, similar to a glamour of sorts. You see me as you would any other human being from your world. You see _anyone_, just as you would someone from your world."

"And how would I see you otherwise?" Ilva asked, more curious than anything now. She had barely seen glimpses of him in her terror during her chase, and it left a deep mark on her conscious mind.

"Not too different from this-" the blond stopped, something keeping him back.

"Ok, so what does all of this debacle have to do with you? And, and... what do you have to do with me?" Then suddenly something else clicked into place. "The bar, when we met. That was not random, was it?"

Fin lowered his eyes, shook his head. "No."

This was getting weirder by the minute. "Why did _you_ seek me out?" Ilva asked either way. "Why now. Why me. Why?"

Ilvana saw his features twist into something short of sheer agony, his frown become deeper. But his voice came soft and fearful. "I told you we're of the same place."

"Yes."

"I was... searching for you. For a long, long time. I wasn't sure where you had gone, and neither were They."

He was making no sense to her. None at all. "_They..._?"

"Ilvana, I can't... I can't say more. Forgive me. I can't," Fin repeated as he squeezed his eyes shut, dug his hands into his hair, fingers roughly grasping golden waves.

The display may have been the first shadow of any sort of vulnerability she had seen on him. But she had had enough. "Well that's just peachy, because you've left me more confused than ever before, and if I'm being honest, disinclined to ever see you again in any way, shape or form if this is how it's gonna be. I can't believe any of this, Fin. I'm sorry."

Ilvana barely held his smoldering gaze. "Then what chased you was a figment of your mind? Their image before your eyes, was all a conjuration of your fear? Would you like to try it next time they seek for you? Stop running, and see what happens?"

Again she had the oddly familiar impression that he was alight, a blue-white flame. His words had been very passionate, and it all sent Ilva on edge. "I don't know what your game is, but I don't have to take any guilt tripping threats from you, you freak!" and with this she tried to rise, intent on leaving but his hands were on her knees, keeping her seated. "Let go!" Ilvana ground out, more angry now than afraid. Before she could do anything else his hands were cupping her face.

_"You will lose her."_

_"She will not believe otherwise."_

_"It is forbidden, quendë."_

_"My lord, please. For her safety."_

She bristled into his face. "What the hell do you think you're doing-" and Ilva was lost in his eyes. Crystallized light, boring into her most inner self. Palms seeping warmth, lulling her body into a state of never before felt torpor. Ilvana felt as if she was here but not here, and then as soon as she knew it, the warmth of his hands disappeared leaving her gasping, her gaze on her knees.

She lifted her head, and saw-

"What the- ?"

He looked the same. Almost. That smooth face, perfect jaw. The same features she was so drawn to. His ears though. His ears-

Driven by a brimming curiosity her hand reached, slowly. He had lowered his gaze by now, closed his eyes. Ilva reached closer still, tucking loose strands away to properly touch... her fingers slid along the edge, up and over the... pointed tip? She drew her hand back as if burnt just as he opened his eyes.

"What..." he heard her pulse quickening "...the actual fuck are you?"

"I told you there were different strains of life-" Fin said calmly.

"No-" Ilva scrambled from the couch and away from him, eyes widened as he slowly rose to stand. "Stay away from me," she hissed, eyes searching for her bag. She ran towards it, hastily taking out the pepper spray and pointing it his way.

"Ilva, I won't harm you-," Fin lifted his hands in a placating manner, his usual flawless bearing slumping slightly.

"I said _stay-the-fuck-away_!" the young woman cried, shaking the spray can as she backed away to the door, fumbling for the door knob.

Fin stood where he was, making no attempt to come near her. "It's not locked," he supplied on a resigned sigh.

Wordlessly Ilva twisted the knob, threw the door open and then she was gone, a frantic whirlwind of confusion and fear in her wake.


	12. Chapter 12

Home. She had to get home. Ilva took the first cab she saw and jumped in, feeling only a small measure of relief as she got farther and farther away_. _Away from him._ A shower, a bowl of something to eat. Nox, gotta feed Nox. Fuck, three days? Who knows what he could have done in... Hold on. Get a grip Day. __He wouldn't, he's not like that. __Then again how do I know? Apparently, I'm a pretty crappy judge of character_ _and intentions._

Touching him and feeling the foreign shapes where she had seen none before had been so overwhelming, adding somehow meaning to his raving words in a way that left her afraid, disappointed, and angry. Afraid of the complete conviction he spoke with when relaying those outrageous stories, disappointed at him for somehow still not telling her the truth despite her gaining nothing from it; and angry at herself for being unable to stay away from him. _When it's obviously doing things to my sanity. My own stupid fault. _And he never said what his actual business with her was_.__ Granted, I up and scampered off like the roof was on fire._ It seemed like the best option at the time. What if she had stayed? _No, don't even go there. No more of this. No more of him._

But those... things? Those dark shadows materializing into the stuff of nightmares? She had felt the ground shake under her feet from the beating of their hooves. Her ears weren't the best around but still rang with those ghoulish screeches, her skin pricking even now when recalling the frightful sounds.

_So you wanted some magical realism in your life, Day? Take the _ _motherload._

Ilvana wasn't sure how she felt anymore. But having experienced that intense fear of pursuit from something which was clearly dangerous, only to afterward see the man she was so drawn to looking so... otherworldly, so clearly in tune with something greater than anything she knew; it had disturbed her deeply, primevally. This guy looked and _felt_ human - and she recalled how he felt, very well indeed. Hard not to, when every touch was ingrained in her memory. Then apparently he was... something else. And she still didn't even know what that was. And his words.

Parallel worlds? There was nothing but honesty in those eyes as the blond spoke to her but damn did it leave a mark.

She reached her apartment, finding it the same. _But I'm not. Huh__, who knew this up stuck overpriced crib would get to be the most stable thing in my life._

Nox appeared to greet her, and Ilva felt simple joy for a few brief moments. "I'm sorry, mommy's been a bum. But I'm back to feed you now."

She went in for a shower after, the hot water pooling at her feet, the steam rising high.

_Ok, pull yourself together. Do it. Facts, let's check facts. Something was clearly after you. Fact. You had no idea where you ended up. Fact. For all intents and purposes, Fin -is that even his name?- somehow saved you from that something. Fact. He isn't, or doesn't appear to be, human. This one hurts my brain but... fact. If he's not human, if those things weren't human, then what he says about Ron... _She shook her head. It was all too unbelievable. _But those__ shadows..._she pondered for a while when something hit her.

_Myra! _She recalled her friend's words in the ER. This would smart, but she had to talk to her._ At least to check that I am not going completely and utterly insane._

And so she did. She called Myra, who to her relief was at home and went straight over.

"You look like a beat-up old turnip," the dark-haired woman greeted.

Ilva grimaced, plopping down at the kitchen table.

"What's up? _Boy_ troubles again?" she teased.

"Myra... not now."

The other looked at her friend then, noticing the distress written on her face. She sat next to Ilva, hands reaching for hers.

"What's wrong, Witch?"

"Myr, there are some pretty weird freaking things happening with my life right now, and I have no idea what to do."

"That's... completely unhelpful."

"I'm sorry I just don't think it'd help if I shared the whole clusterfuck of a story with you. But Myr, can I ask you something."

Myra looked at her friend expectantly. "Well? Shuck it out, don't look so scared."

"Do you... I mean, of course, you remember your accident."

The other's face grew graver, warier. "Go on."

"When you awoke, you mentioned something about, that is... you said you saw... shadows? Having cut your path?"

Myra bolted from the chair, turned her back on Ilva. "Why do you have to ask me about that?" she spoke hastily.

"Myr please, I know it's painful, but I just need to know-"

"It's not painful. It's fucking terrifying, Ilva. You have no idea-

"Myr I only want to... check that I'm not going insane here. Please."

Her friend turned back to face her. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I might've experienced something similar, I just-"

"Ilva if this is a joke, you need to go back to school because it's not fucking funny. You have no idea, how long I thought I was losing it. How I've looked over my shoulder every second of every minute, ears peaked, listening for those hellish screeches, fearing they would come for me again."

"You never said anything!"

"Would you?"

_Ok, she's got a point there._

They stood in silence for a while.

"Witch, I can see it on your face. Something's eating you but if you won't share-"

"Something, those things, followed me one night. I don't know what's happening to me, Myr. My waking life is turning into a freak show and I'm getting lost in it. I only... I wanted to confirm that what you claimed you saw was the same."

Myra looked at the other woman with a worried expression. "If I'm not insane, and you're not -presumably- insane, then what the fuck are those things, and what's their scope?"

A look of unease flashed over her friend's face. "I haven't the slightest idea." She sighed. _Better not share Fin's ramblings just yet_. "But I sure hope I will never find out."

* * *

Reaching her apartment Ilvana went straight into the bedroom. As she sank her head into the pillow, she turned on her side and her eyes fell on the sculpture from Ron.

_Fuck, Ron! I haven't been to work in three freaking days, I have to call him-_

Then she remembered Fin's story.

Evil.

Ron.

_Yeah right._ Yet, somehow, her mind wouldn't let her be with this. She was out with him before those shadows came for her. _His henchmen,_ the blond had called them. He knew where she would be. Technically, if he had wanted to hurt her... _Shut up Ilva, you're listening to the ravings of a genetically altered loon._

Sighing, she took the sculpture from the nightstand in hand, looking it over.

_Maybe it's best I just find another job. Finally move out of this apartment. Out of New York. Maybe in Europe? Why not. Anything to get away from this. Peace of mind is an expensive commodity._

She would do it. She would go speak to the director tomorrow, settle things. She still debated whether to open up the subject relayed to her by the blond. _I might just end up looking like a complete and utter freak_. _A nutty one at that_. She scoffed. _He should be used to those by now anyway._ With these thoughts, she drifted into sleep.

It was more or less the same dream. She now saw a green shield, struck with gold, blocking the shadows. She was drawn back and held tightly against a panting chest.

_"Ilvanya, you must go with them!"_ she heard but turning to face the speaker she saw he was already running towards the fire. The rayed sun, gold on green, shone on his shield.

_Ilvanya?_

_A__ rayed sun?_ Her conscious self registered. Again the spectator, the spectated.

And the golden armor she had seen on the funeral stand-

The fires burned. Blazing black holes for eyes stared her down menacingly, and her feet turned to lead.

There was the flute melody again. It followed her as she ran fast into someone's arms. She never wanted to let go, but then she was alone again.

The funeral procession.

_"Stop this, stop this! Not again!"_ the woman desperately urged her mind to awaken and take her away from all of this.

She advanced, as she did before. The shield stood placed next to his lifeless form. It was broken, the sun upon it charred and blackened. She wanted to see him-

"_Ilvanya..."_ another voice called as she fell to her knees. But this was darker, deeper, and more threatening than even the howls of those things that followed her.

_"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"_ she dared confront the voice, wanting to waken but being unable to.

A peal of strange laughter chilled her inside.

_"A friend."_


	13. Chapter 13

Ilvana studied herself in the mirror. Shades under eyes, check. Pale, sleepless complexion, check. Mottled curlball of a hair, check. Scary voice in the back of her head, and nightmares keeping her from having a good night's rest, check.

_And why the heck did I call myself 'Ilvanya'._ Her name, but not quite. And the creepy voice. _A friend_, it said. What kind of a monster was her mind for pulling this poltergeist crap on her? The young woman wasn't sure how much more she would be able to take and hadn't the slightest idea what to do, save for actually going to see a specialist. It was every other day now that she had the same recurring dreamscape horrors. The fleeing, the grave, the grief, the fire. But never his face. Never his damn face.

Ilvana turned around absentmindedly, brushing her teeth, looking at herself in the mirror. The rayed sun, so vivid in her latest dream. _Why would my tattoo be part of that whole horror show? _She was made of questions lately.

Today was the day she would go to Narmo Art, talk it over with Ron. _Better than making excuses over the phone anyway._ As she dressed the sculpture gifted from him caught her eye again. Ilva pondered for a while before taking the object and throwing it in her bag.

The sudden rain on her way to the shop left her soaking wet. Ilva looked at her phone. 9:00 AM. _At least I'm not late. Ok, maybe four days late but it's still something?_

Ilva looked around the place as she placed her bag down. Eerily quiet.

"Hey, Ron, you around?"

"Ilva?" she heard his voice from upstairs then saw his brassy head of hair at the top of the rail. His expression was one of worry.

"Good grief, I was about to call the authorities," Ron exclaimed when their eyes met.

_Well, certainly doesn't look like he might be on a murderous spree?_ "Uhm yeah, I wanted to apologize for this. I've had some... urgent matters to see to, and no time to let you know. I'm so very sorry, Ron."

A reassuring smile made its way onto that handsome face, serving to relieve her stress, if only a little. "No problem, Ilva. It really is no issue. And I promise I won't pry. I'm just glad to see you back," her boss smiled as his hand rested on the banister.

She balanced herself on one foot, then the other. "Actually, about that. There is something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh? Well, let's go up into my office. Come on, I'll fix you some coffee while we're at it."

_Not a bad start at least. _Ilvana nodded and followed him up the stairs. She entered the room after him, leaving the door half open.

Once Ron gave her a cup of hot coffee he went and placed his own onto his desk, and stood leaning against the wooden edge, motioning for her to sit.

Ilva remained standing, somehow more at ease like this. _Come on Day, guts, where are your guts._

"Well, I'm waiting," he smiled, reaching and sipping from his coffee. "What did you want to cover with me?"

_He's really not what you would call intimidating. What is wrong with you?_

"Well, my life is in a very odd spot right now."

Ron listened, staring into empty space, coffee in one hand, fingers resting on his chin. "I see. And?"

"And as much as I appreciate you having given me this chance with this job and your mentorship, it's time for me to make a change. I think it's best I start from scratch," she finished somewhat meekly. But she raised her head immediately after, looking straight into amber eyes. "I'll be leaving Narmo Art, Ron. But I'll do my best to help you find a replacement-"

The coffee cup hit the desk with a sharp sound, making her flinch. He righted himself from the desk, going around it and sitting into the high office chair without a word. Both hands placed on the armrests. Staring her down. She stared back at him as silence descended, taking in the way he was examining her with a vaguely pleased and somewhat... condescending expression?

_O...k?_

He slowly leaned forward. "Are you so displeased here? Why didn't you say anything before?" he finally spoke.

"Oh, no it's not that, not you. Trust me," she added quickly, feeling guilty for some reason. _Well that's partly true._

"Then what is it?" Ron asked, the smile gone, an undertone to his voice that made her feel somewhat uneasy for the first time in his presence.

"It's... a lot of things," Ilva still added. "It wouldn't make sense to you either way. Oh and-" remembering, she pulled out the sculpture from her bag. "I don't think I should have this afterall. Thank you, but it's too valuable and I wanted to return it-"

Ron watched as she placed the object on his desk. He then looked away, shook his head. "Oh, Ilvana..."

_No, no, no, don't act like this. Hurt. Come on._

"Ron, it's not like that," she approached him, wanting to make amends. "I mean nothing by it, I just don't think I deserve-"

"I'll decide what you deserve," he suddenly said angrily, as a king would to an unruly slave, eyes cutting to hers.

Ilvana froze, unsure whether she had heard him correctly. "Wh-what?" And in those eyes she thought she'd seen a flicker of something that wasn't there now.

But the laid back smile returned, as if it never left his face.

Her mind was already screaming at her to get out of there, alarm bells were drowning her ears, but her body wouldn't move.

Ron sighed. "I apologize. It's been a stressful few days for me. I would really like it if you stayed, Ilvana," she heard his voice again in a haze, similar to other times she had been in his presence. It beckoned to her will, bending and twisting it towards his.

But somehow, Ilva resisted. "I really learned much from you. I really liked it here, and I really... like you. But I have to do this, Ron. For my own peace of mind."

The sound of his long fingers tapping against wood filled the room.

_Damn, didn't expect him to take it this hard._

"I'm sorry," Ilvana repeated pleadingly, unsure why she did so. It was her right, her freedom to do as she wished after all. "I hope this doesn't end here. We could keep in touch, if you like-" she didn't realize when she started rambling on, and barely heard his next words.

"Is it the dreams?" he asked, staring into empty space with a half smirk pulling at thin lips.

"I don't-" ... "What?"

The smirk grew wider, spreading into a grin. "The dreams, Ilvana. You know which ones." Then his eyes were on her again. Eyes with slitted pupils.

She stumbled back one step. Turned on her heel towards the open door-

-which promptly shut before her forcefully.

_What the shit-_

Ilvana whirled around, her breathing erratic. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Everything crashed down on her at once. Fin, his warnings, the shadows, his eyes.

The one before her looked the same, and yet didn't. A cruel mien spread over his face as he regarded the woman.

"_Ilvana Day_. I have been searching for you for some time now."

_Everyone seems to be saying that these days._

"What- what do you mean?"

"Cease the games. Your golden haired _friend_ surely already told you some of it all. And I'm sure he also had a lot of unflattering things to say about _me_."

_No._

_It can't be. He's Ron, my boss. A hot laid back dude with a taste for _ _art and a quirky hair color._

He neared her and Ilvana resisted the urge to back away again, though every fiber in her body told her to.

"Who... are you?"

He was circling her now as a wolf would its prey, arms behind his back as she stood there rigidly, unable to move.

"You ask the wrong questions, Ilvanya."

_Ilvanya._

Her eyes widened.

"Ah, finally it clicks, I see?"

"What are you?" she asked, choking on her fear. This one was not like Fin. This one was threateningly oppressive. She felt the cruelty and dark intent seeping from him.

"I told you I was a friend."

"Friends don't send shadow riders to hurt you and the people in your life."

"I only wanted to get your attention. And to help you remember."

"And Myra?"

Ron looked away, that satisfied smile never leaving his face. "An impediment. Distracting you from your true aim."

_That's cold._ Suddenly he wasn't the man she had known anymore. He was someone else.

But when his pupils changed their shape again Ilvana realized that maybe everything she thought she ever knew was turning on its head. Blondie was...telling the truth?

"My true aim."

"Yes, Ilvanya. You have a gift, a great gift. One you came by somewhat... unintentionally. But a gift nonetheless. Something to aid me greatly in my efforts."

_Fuck, how do I get out of this steaming bowl of kitty litter._ Her eyes darted through the room. "Look, Ron, can't we just leave things here, I go home, we never see each other again?" she tried nervously.

"I'm afraid that was never an option."

"Please," she tried again as he towered over her, "I don't have any gifts, especially not one of the sort, and if I did-"

"You don't remember, Ilvanya-" he took her by the wrist.

"Stop calling me that!" she gritted, trying to pull away, his grin scaring her.

"But it _is_ your name," Sauron brought her closer. "And don't you want to know who he is? Don't you want the dreams to stop? Have you ever considered their meaning?"

"I know what they are. Random hubbub."

"No, Ilvanya. Not at all. I can help you. I have been trying to help you, all this time." And with that he produced the sculpture she had placed near her bed.

"You... you gave me those dreams?"

"I did not _give _or cause anything. I merely... tried to aid you in remembering. But I can show you. All it takes is to open to me, and see."

"And what do you want in return?" _Am I actually even considering this?_

"I could use your aid. Together, you and I can achieve mighty things," his fingers gently touched her cheek. Dread filled her at the icy touch, and all she wanted was to flee. _Making a habit __out of it too._

Her mind raced. So if... if this insanity was reality, and Ron the art gallery director ruled those Shadows, that probably made him _at least_ ten times worse?

"I don't think you need my help, you seem to be doing a pretty good job-"

"_Do not, _test my patience," the words came. His voice sounded slightly changed, more metallic and reverberated in pitch.

_Screwed, Ilva. You are screwed._

Then suddenly the woman pushed him away roughly, dashing towards the door. Long cold fingers dug into her shoulder, pulling her back effortlessly, forcing her to face him.

Flaming eyes with slitted pupils made her want to scream but instead she choked on her own spit, unable to move as his hand came placed over her head. Its pressure was too much, causing her to fall down to her knees, unable to remove his fingers from her scalp.

She saw only blackness.

Fire. Running. The funeral. The body. The pain.

"No! Leave me be, please! I don't want to see, I don't want-"

She approached, her body not her own. The hilt, the shield, the pallor of him.

She leaned over, looked higher, and higher-

Her breath left her, and she nearly fell forward.

He was so fair, even in death, his golden hair spread about him, his face serene, akin to a sainted martyr. He was so still, looked so much at peace. His garb and weapons were blackened and broken, his lifeless hands bloodied and burnt. But his face was untouched, unblemished. Hallowed.

"_Fin... __No-," _Ilvana gasped, leaning close to see him better, feeling tears streaking down her face, the pain so fresh and new and overwhelming.

"That is a false name he gave you, Ilvanya."

His closed sunken eyes tore her heart out, his fingers stiffened on the hilt dug into her soul. His still chest crushed her own.

_Oh god, him. It was him... all along. He was..._

"A mighty warrior-," the fell voice cut through her.

The scene changed, and she was running with the rest of them.

"-of a great city of old. But then he left you, in favor of his own pride and glory-"

"No-" She saw herself running, he and others were protecting the few who were escaping. Ilvana then saw herself pleading with him, begging him not to stand alone.

"-he refused to listen to you, left you, and his vanity led to his ruin. And yours."

"Stop it, stop!" She saw him fall again, tangled and battling with the fiery beast he had tried to save them from.

Ilvana was now sobbing, struggling against the hand of Sauron keeping her pinned, to no avail. She was dragged into a different scene, watching herself stand next to his grave. Next to the remnants of the one who had been everything to her.

"You hated him then, did you not...? For abandoning you to pride, for leaving you to fade while he ascended into the Blessed Realm."

"Please, I don't want to know! I don't want to see anymore!" she cried dejectedly.

"Do you _remember_?" the metallic voice grated against her mind.

She saw herself, felt herself long for peace, staring into the emptiness beneath her. Her dark robes billowed in the soaring winds. Her last thought being of him, she threw herself into the abyss, felt her body falling. Felt the jagged cliffs rush to meet her. Then nothing.

"You could not live without him, so you chose not to."

"Enough!" Ilvana ground desperately, reliving everything through his words. Too much. It was all too much.

"But there was no peace left for you. For your deed, by the laws of our world you were banned from the Blessed Realm, your soul cast into the endless void. He, on the other hand, lived on in splendor and peace with the Higher Ones until after long years he was reembodied; and he was returned to the world as a valiant beacon of light," the voice added mockingly. "You know this to be true, you have seen him with your own eyes."

"No more, I beg you..." the young woman pleaded.

"Do you remember _now_?" Sauron insisted, blind to her supplication. "_Do you remember_, Ilvanya Ectheliel?"


	14. Chapter 14

"Please!" she begged, her forehead pressed against the ground, unable to still her sobbing. Her fingers dug into the earth, hands crushing together fallen leaves-

_Leaves?_

Ilvana lifted her head suddenly. With a jolt of fear and relief she noticed herself cowering not in Ron's office, but somewhere outside. Surrounded by yellowing trees and a clear sky above head. No sign of the flaming eyed loon.

_Well isn't this the right amount of fuckery._

The young woman rose unsteadily, looking left and right. She was in a forest of sorts. It seemed to be midday, though the thick crowns of the sturdy trees made it seem as twilight.

_What the hell is happening with my life?_ Ilvana Day wondered for the hundredth time, trying and failing not to think about all that the brass haired maniac had shown her. _Could just as well be a load of horse crap._ With what she had seen it was doubtful _Ron_ was the most trustworthy of people. But then, why did it all leave her so pained, a whisper of something familiar, and much more powerful? Why did the sight of _his_ lifeless form make her feel so destitute? It was still drilling holes into her mind, her spirit. Later. She would mull over it all later.

_Alright Day, don't panic. You must refrain from panicking. Right_ _ now we have to find some form of -hopefully nonthreatening- civilization._

So she started walking.

_Traveling worlds. __Such unimaginable bullshit. Yet here I am, somewhere else entirely, and it sure doesn't look like New York anymore, Toto. _Was Ron behind this? _Such a shitty judge of character, Day. And 'Ron' is nothing but the coronation of proof of that._

Unbidden, her mind conjured words Fin had said to her back when the young woman wanted to get close to him.

_More time is needed._

_I can't see for you._

So she was supposed to remember... all of _that_? But why. What did this... this _alien_, want with her anymore?

If all Ron - _probably should stop calling him that - _if all that other nefarious _creature_ had shown her was true, she had killed herself and got banned for it in this other world, in a past life? _Talk about deities being pricks everywhere. _Then howcome she ended up on Earth? And _what _sort of character was the one she knew as Fin? He had said they were of the same place. And there were different races in their realm. _Ugh, my head feels like the equivalent of a Hiroshima attack._

As she walked Ilvana lost track of time and soon noticed the light around her dimming, the wood becoming darker. Day was slowly making way to dusk. _Great, a night in the woods with no shelter or water is just what the doctor ordered._ Her eyes darted around aimlessly. _Maybe those things'll find me again. I could ask if I can crash at their place. _Her thoughts strayed to the blond again. She had intended to stay away from him but now... _Now, what Day?_ The grief she had felt next to his grave would not leave her be. It had felt real, eviscerating. _I was always drawn to him, from the very beginning._ Ever since he... found her? _But the fact of the matter remains, whatever truth may be out there, whatever I might be or might've been, he led me on, kept me in the dark. If I ever see that prick again I'm going to give him such a piece of my mind he won't see straight for days. Provided I find a way out of this place, that is._

So lost was she in her thoughts that Ilva startled when she heard the long winded sound of a... horn? Her head swiveled to the left where the sound was coming from. Next she heard multiple sounds of feet, then hooves and the whinnying of horses.

_Horses._

The previous ghastly experience coming to mind, Ilva jumped out of her skin trying to find a hiding place. Before she could head towards a thicket she'd set her eye on the glade filled with the presence of others.

_What the fuck is that smell?_

She looked about her and froze.

Thick strong bodies, gangly faces the color of dark treated leather, sharp teeth, yellow eyes, menacing and wild.

The woman gasped and tried to turn away but something bumped into her. That something turned out to be the bearer of one of those frightening faces, clad in strange clothes. In her terror she vaguely recalled what the smell was - that of decay. She screamed.

The creature growled something at the others, grabbing the woman roughly by her hair and arm. Her struggles were useless.

"Let go of me, you bag of shit, god-fucking dammit! Help!" she was now kicking and screaming, trying with all her might to wrench herself free. Ilvana was rewarded with a powerful smack for her efforts, and felt the warm liquid trail down her face from the claws which had scraped over her cheek. Ilva felt herself being lifted up and draped over a hard metal clad shoulder. _Great, the potato sack treatment._ "You fucker, I hope you get eaten by a bear full of rabies!" the woman screamed despite her better judgement.

The group of nightmares from hell kept running and Ilva realized in horror they were comrades of sorts. The sound of hooves drew nearer, and she could hear the beasts' growling grow hoarser, more desperate. _Fucking hell, if whatever's out there scares the likes of them, then I don't wanna know what it is-_

A sudden jolt put a stop to her thoughts as she found herself fallen to the ground. The smelly haunch of meat that had been her captor lay lifeless under her and something looking like an arrow shaft protruded from his head. She scrambled away from the heinous body, turning on her hands and knees. She lifted herself with the intent of running-

Only to stop short at the sight before her. She found herself amidst a battle of sorts. Riders of horseback were surrounding the group of creatures, dispensing with them none too gently. Body after body fell to the ground until few to none remained standing. The attackers wore long cloaks, military garb similar to what she had only seen in medieval art history class, and she discerned swords and bows in their hands. Frantic with fear she turned to find an escape, running towards the safety of the trees. Just as Ilva was up and running she was stopped short and fell back down to the ground. One of the riders had blocked her path, spurring his horse on its hind legs. In her stupor Ilva barely made out long dark hair and steely grey eyes. The most unfriendly mien she had ever seen straining fair features.

"Please don't kill me, I wasn't with them, I swear-" Ilvana scrambled back from the apparition. Looking about herself, she noticed other horses had surrounded her. All of their riders were of either very dark or very light long hair. Varying shades of skin complexions, light eyes. And threatening expressions.

_Fuck me, not this again._

"Ma len?" the question startled her. She only knew it was a question from the intonation, her brain of course failing to comprehend the actual words.

"What?" _Holy crap._

_"_Pedig edhellen?" the grim dark-haired one insisted, his features more severe if that were even possible.

"L- look, I don't know what kind of event this is but I'm not into it. You're pretty into character and surely know your thing, but you can stop now. Both you and the guys sprawled on the ground-"

She was blabbering, and apparently the dark-haired one thought the same. "No dhínen!" he interrupted harshly.

_Well, screw you right back buddy. __Don't tell me they don't even speak a language I can understand. _Try as she might, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by their presence. There wasn't one of them that was any less than tall and fair, a fact she'd find quite interesting had she not been scared out of her wits. _Like some super model team building LARP session._ But these guys looked like business. Still, the young woman tried the sane approach for a sane explanation of all of this.

"I don't understand you. English?... Err, sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

The one addressed looked her over, a mask of intense annoyance on his sharp features. Then another horse approached and as her eyes fell on its rider she noticed another dark head of hair.

"Twins?" Ilva wondered aloud, making the new presence turn towards her.

"Ú-bed edhellen," the other muttered to his brother, gaze turning suspiciously on her.

_Much much weirder than the twins in the Shining I'll tell you that._

Then they both started conversing in the same unusual language, the conclusion of which seemed to be against her favor as one of them dismounted and took her by the arm.

"Hey, let go you Lancelot wannabe!" But she was twisted around and her wrists bound before being lifted none too gently; and onto the bareback horse of one of the siblings.

_Oh this is gonna hurt._

Struggling was useless and as the bastard flung himself up behind her Ilva startled, while at the same time grudgingly marveling at his undeniable dexterity. She noticed others were gathering the bodies of the fallen into carriages. _Fact. Those guys looked different to these ones. Must've been an opposing faction._ Her conviction that this was a game was starting to slowly wither, but it was all that kept her sane. Soon the group started on horseback into an unknown direction and Ilva was cursing her existence all the more the faster the horse went. She was being steadied against a steel body and the jolts were starting to be painful. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of riding the group stopped and started to dismount. Ilva was also placed on her own two feet by one of the siblings, and as he did so she noticed his hood fall down from his head.

_What in the name of- _His ears. His ears were of the same unusual shape as the one Fin had. The one she had felt... Were these guys the same as him? Was that good or bad? _Parallel realms._ _Where... the heck have I ended up?_

"Hey, listen," the young woman tried as she was being dragged forward. Grey eyes turned on her, and she somehow lost her nerve. "Hey uhm, d'you by any chance know someone called Fin? Tall, very handsome I hate to admit, golden hair the envy of all sororities? Though it might not be his actual name..." the other gaped at her just as suspiciously and confusedly as before. "Fin? Doesn't ring a bell? No?" He only turned from her and resumed his trek with Ilva in tow. "Great," she mumbled dejectedly as she stumbled.

Ilva noticed this was a camp of sorts, and others similar to her captors were striding to and fro. Most were clad in mail and tunics, grey cloaks. Some had bows and quivers adorning their backs; all of them possessed a sword of some kind. Bracers, high boots. All of them had the same kind of ears, no exception.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked the sullen one, unable to stay silent, her worry increasing tenfold.

"Gin ú-chenion," the other muttered tiredly.

Ilvana sighed, wondering again if the Universe was scraping the bottom of the barrel with regards to her existence. They were nearing a group of more of these soldiers, all of which seemed to be discussing something as they went.

Her head bowed, Ilvana steeled herself for more questions in foreign languages and whatever else these strange beings were going to do with her, praying to whatever god was out there to at least give her a quick ending. Anything was better than this.

"Ilvana-...?!" a surprised voice sounded from somewhere.

The woman froze. She knew that voice. Her head shot up, meeting a face she had seen in life and death. A face she had longed to touch before all of this came about. He was the same, but so very different. He wore a similar garb to the others; light silver mail under a long grey tunic and leggings, dark grey boots, a golden silver scabbard hanging at the waist. She recognized it from his apartment. And of course, looking back into his eyes, her vision strayed to his pointed ears. _Why did I even hope._ He looked more worried than she had ever seen him, and seemed to barely keep himself from doing something. Ilva didn't dare to think what, but a small part of her wished he did. "Fin-..." she mouthed dazedly, somehow happy and angry all at once, unable to look away.

"Leithio den," the blond said swiftly, his widened eyes never leaving hers. Ilva blinked, gaping at him and the clear order in his tone as she barely felt the black-haired one starting to untie her wrists.

In a flash, she saw annoyance replace worry. He reached for her. Took her by the arms so powerfully Ilva winced, her feet leaving the ground with the momentum, barely reaching down on her toes.

"Are you wounded?" Fin demanded in English, looking her over. His eyes trailed over the scratches adorning her cheek. "You shouldn't be here," he gritted. "How-"

_What, _he's _upset? Dude, do you know what I've been through thanks to your maelstrom of shit?_ Her face felt warm, her ears were pounding. She was now panting, everything coming back all at once. Their meeting, his secrecy, the shadows. The dreams, the fall, the grave. Ilva wrenched herself away from him with an angry hiss.

"You. Bastard!" The slap resounded through the glade, an echo which seemed to turn almost every head in any known direction towards them.

Ilva was panting still, only barely noticing the shocked faces of the ones watching them. Her palm stung from the force with which she had struck him. Regret was taking hold.

Two of the other strangely clad soldiers were frowning and nearing her. Ilva took a step back. _Bugger. _She looked at him.

His eyes were closing as Fin looked to his feet, took a deep intake of breath.

"Glorfindel?" the dark-haired twin hedged, eyes still wide in surprise, apparently waiting for him to say something.

Ilva felt even more confused.

Fin spoke a few hastily strung words in reply before swiftly going around Ilva without another glance, leaving her standing there, her own gaze set on the ground. When finally the woman looked around herself the others had gone, that is save for one of the black-haired twins. Ilva was vaguely wondering why he was still there, mainly still affected by the bizarre guilt she felt for her earlier action. Her eyes strayed down to see his proffered arm, then back up to his face. He looked at her with a softer mien than before, slightly more ambivalent; not quite friendly but closer to agreeable than anything.

"Tolo, govado ven. Tolo a bosto."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the Third Age, Sindarin had long since become the lingua franca of the elves dwelling in Middle-earth. I am by no means an expert in the study of this language. All of the Sindarin and Quenya phrases or words used in this fan fiction are drawn from realelvish dot net. I find it a great resource for fan fiction writers and enthusiasts alike. Well worth a donation!
> 
> 'Ma len?' = 'Who are you?' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'Pedig edhellen?' = 'Do you speak Elvish?' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'No dhínen!' = 'Be silent!' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'Ú-bed edhellen' = 'He/She can't speak Elvish' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'Gin ú-chenion' = 'I don't understand you' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'Leithio den,' = 'Release her' (Sindarin)
> 
> 'Tolo, govado ven. Tolo a bosto' = 'Come join us. Come and rest' (Sindarin)


	15. Chapter 15

It looked like the black-haired one took it upon himself to be her caretaker in the world of alien camp. And was doing a good job of it too. Ilva recalled with a smile how he led her to a spot, pointed at himself saying "Elladan", then motioned the universal sign for her to stay put.

_Ok, got his name, and my first instructions. Still more than I know about Fin, _her mind poked.

The one calling himself Elladan returned soon enough with a grey cloak and something looking like a folded sleeping bag, offering it to her.

"Thank you," the woman tried. _I guess he can tell the gratitude on my face if nothing else._ She found his eyes lit in amusement. "Yeah, at least I'm entertaining. Ha-ha, look at the lost woman being chased by those things you're heading to burn. Funny. I'd laugh myself, but I find the situation a bit of a Deja-fuck!"

Elladan only shook his head and motioned for her to follow.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing too that you don't understand me. Your ears are safe. Those freaky-as-hell-Dracula ears. Alright, I take it back, that was mean." Rambling helped keep her growing desperation and distress at bay.

As night approached and having nothing else to do save for staring at her surroundings, Ilva had lain her sleeping bag - the quality of which impressed her in any case - close to the fires where most of the soldiers or guards were gathered. They were sipping something from elegantly gilded wooden cups or making quiet conversation in that same lilting language. Most noticed her, but seemed intent on ignoring her presence.

_Just as well, the same goes for you lot. _Ilva plopped down against a tree, slightly away from one of the fires. Her eyes trailed over these strange, otherwordly beings. _Behavior's not too different from your average scouting expedition on Earth. Except this one involved swift execution. _Her vision focusing on the fire gathering closest to her, she noticed _him_ there, sitting cross-legged and listening to the recounts of others. He was drinking also, smiling every once in a while. _Asshole. _He looked and behaved so differently from what she'd seen of him before. _Talk about bipolar images. _He had chosen the persona of a loner in her world, whereas here he was constantly surrounded by someone. Asking, helping, guiding. Who was he, actually? _Well, fat chance he'll tell me -now-. _She then noticed the twins beside the blond, their voices and faces somewhat merrier.

_Hmmph, who needs a social club anyway._ Ilva looked to the stars. Not one familiar constellation. Then dread took her, and thoughts of home as she knew it. _I had a shitty time of it lately, but it's still home. _Now she hoped against hope, that whatever brought her back the first time could do so again. _I don't belong here. No matter what I might have seen._

The young woman was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the presence close to her. "Jesus Holy Mary- you startled me,_ Elladan!_"

The other smiled, giving her props with his eyes for using his name. _Like in elementary school._

He was holding something for her to take. Looking closer, Ilvana noticed she was being offered what looked like nourishment. She discerned dried bread and dark berries. _Well, diarrhea's the least of my problems now. _And she was hungry. So Ilva gratefully took his offering. "Thank you."

The elf nodded, turning gracefully and leaving her to her own devices. Ilva noticed he took his place back by Fin's side.

_Fine, pout. _He hadn't spared her a second glance since her outburst, and try though she did for it not to bother her-

It did. It was the most stupidly avoidable and unfortunate state of things and she had to do something about it. _Tomorrow.__ I'll deal with this tomorrow._

Ilvana looked at the streaked sky again, hoping to fall asleep soon. She ended up marveling at the brightest stars she'd ever seen well after the fires went out, and into the morning.

* * *

The second day found the group moving with swift efficiency in gathering themselves before setting out again. Ilva packed her meager allowance and since Fin was scarcely to be seen or surrounded by others most of the time, she decided to go find Elladan. _Him ghosting me isn't helping either. _She was somewhat disgruntled at seeing the blond seemingly ordering everyone around without actually ordering. All appeared to float towards him, asking or calling on him to aid with something or other. A lot of times he was looking at maps in collaboration with the same few presences. The twins were among these._ Great, I bitchslapped the alien world equivalent of Napoleon. Good going Day, shoulder pat._

The day passed with no excitement, save for Ilva's adventure taking her first bath in an ice-cold lake. Gratefully, she had been provided a towel of sorts and essences to bathe, courtesy of one of the female members of the company. She hadn't noticed at first as confused as she'd been, but there were female soldiers holding their own the same as male ones. Tall, lithe and fair they were, and a wonder to behold when they sparred. But male and female, they were all comrades in the end. She sensed their union, their community.

They rode again, Ilva keeping her place on the steed beside an increasingly amused dark-haired twin. "Yo, El, why the hell do you ride bareback? Saddles, anyone?" she lulled to her companion, needing to hear herself speak to someone. A foreign response came in return, and the woman was glad though she understood none of it. Evening came soon enough and a temporary camp was set again. This time Ilva had tried to help, taking care of simple tasks. In the end, she took her place by one of the fires, deciding against solitude for the night. It felt safer here. Others offered her a cup, and she soon discovered what they had been drinking. A wine of sorts. _Very sweet, very aromatic. And probably very strong judging by this sudden heat_. Still, she drank slowly and listened to the sounds of their language, a low murmur, somewhat calming.

Her eyes strayed towards another fire. _He_ was there, a calm expression about him, one elbow resting on his risen knee. He appeared so boyish she thought, with his aura of eager youthfulness and that steadfast spark in his eye. But it seemed to her that his gaze held a nearly... ancient sort of light, as he presently listened and conversed with one of his men. She watched his undeniably noble features, that honest interest. His hair was a golden flame reflecting the crimson of the kindled fire. Her eyes lingered. She could very well look away, or so Ilvana believed. But it was so good to observe him freely. _So this is who he really is. Here._ Then Ilvana saw his other companion rise and leave, and he was left to his own.

He was alone.

Her face burned from the wine. _I have to fix this. I won't like it, but I have to. __Come on Day. Whether you like it or not, despite his supreme asshollery Blondie did save your sorry tush at least twice. And he's the only one who understands you here. Just jump over that ego. Come on. One leg over the fence, then the other._

Ilva gathered her cloak about her, sipped the remainder of her wine, and slowly started pacing into that direction. As she approached Ilvana saw him staring listlessly into the fire.

_It's not that hard. Just out with it. I shouldn't have slapped you. It was a bitch move._

She knew he'd heard her. Ilva stopped next to the fire, looking at him. _Fine, I'll let myself in._ When Fin didn't acknowledge her she took her place by his side onto the log anyway. _Go wine._ Still his gaze remained on the flames.

_Jeez, the cold shoulder. So be it. _She looked at his profile. That perfect visage, infused by the reddish light of the fire- _For goodness' sake Day, you here to ogle or apologize?_

"Go on, then."

"?" she startled at his sudden speech.

"Tell me how you regret striking me and how bad it makes you feel," Fin added derisively.

_This impossible- _"Well, I'll have you know- stop grinning!" she flustered at the appearance of that annoying smirk. "Look, what I actually came to say is-"

His words came in a tired sigh. "...-that you realized I'm the only one speaking your language here. Hence, it would be in your best interest to apologize," he finished for her.

Heat spread to her face, and not due to the fire. "What- no, that wasn't my thought at all!" _Why does he have to make this so hard? Alien jerk. _She sighed in frustration. "Ok, it was maybe half of my thought."

His smirk persisted but was soon replaced by the blank expression from earlier.

"I won't do it again," Ilvana added somewhat apologetically.

"You went to see him."

She bristled at that. "I did," Ilva added, a bit too emphatically. _Are you a child, Day?_

"And how did that work out for you?" Fin asked dryly.

"Well, very badly, but-"

He shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I assume that has to do with you ending up here."

It was so odd to hear him speak in modern lingo wearing those clothes.

"It does, he frightened me, and I-" _we're derailing here._

"You passed through. Just like last time. Just as he wanted."

_Will you look at me at least?_ "It was a bad decision admittedly. But-" _Say it._ "But I got one thing out of it. At least now I know what you've been denying to tell me."

At that Fin finally, slowly tore his gaze from the fire to look at her. His expression gave nothing away. In fact, it looked as if he had just heard the most mundane of news. "Do you?"

"Yeah." _How do I say this without things degenerating? But boy would I welcome some sort of emotion out of him right now._ "I know that- apparently, you were pretty fond of heroics, to the detriment of yourself and your loved ones."

Fin only stared at her for another moment before looking away. "And I know that somehow you died and returned, but what I don't get, and what doesn't add up, is what you want with me now. So since the grand secret's pretty much out, cat's way above the bag, will you deign to tell me?"

Silence descended for a long while until Ilva debated whether she should repeat her question.

"Tomorrow, when we reach Imladris," bright eyes followed the line of her profile, "I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"What's Imladris?"

"We live there," he motioned towards his comrades.

"I see. And then this was...?"

"A border mission. We were hunting orc having infiltrated the land. They grow bolder, and I'm sure _he_ is up to something."

"Ron," she ended.

Fin nodded.

"So those reeking things were called 'orc'. A race different to yours, I assume."

"A very astute observation."

"You're a treat to be around," she quipped.

The blond took a piece of wood in hand, a dagger in the other. He started busying himself carving into the dry material.

"We're called the Firstborn, as we were the first to awaken on the shores of this world. We are also known as the Eldar, and Men most commonly refer to our kind as 'elves'."

"You have humans here?" the woman wondered.

"Humans, elves, dwarves, orc, are all races coexisting here, in Arda."

"Dwarves."

"Is it so unbelievable after what you've seen?"

"I guess not." It was her chance to look away, into the fire. "So... I did have another question," Ilva followed after a while.

"Color me surprised," he flicked the small dagger blade expertly in his hand as he worked.

"Do you have to be such a jerk all the time?"

"Maybe striking me again would fix that." He looked at her briefly.

Ilva gritted her teeth. "Why- fine, I'll take that."

"Your question?"

"Is 'Glorfindel' your name?"

"Yes."

_That was easy._

They both turned to stare into the flames, silence taking hold again.

"He said my name was Ilvanya."

At that, she felt his eyes on her. "That is true," Ilva heard, the words softer than before.

"I saw my tattoo as the sun on your shield."

"Imagine my surprise when I saw it on you."

She dared a smile, remembering that time. "So how'd you learn to ride a motorcycle?"

"I've had a lot of time to spend in your world."

"How much is that in Earth years?"

He rose from the log then. "You should rest. Tomorrow we'll set early for Imladris," the elf spoke as he turned and left before Ilva even had a chance to reply.

She then noticed the object in her lap. She took it in hand, examining its detail. It looked like a hair stick, carved long and thin with a square head, bearing a carved stylized sun. Ilva gathered up her hair, twisted and pinned it with the object. She absentmindedly stared into the fire, wishing for a myriad of contradicting things, and wanting only one.


	16. Chapter 16

She barely slept a wink that night. Unusually so, as Ilvana found that she felt fine physically. Her vision was clear, her wits sharp. And she was not at all the usual amount of tired two sleepless nights would normally cause. She thought of home again. _Nox. Oh brother, hope the extra food I left will keep her until I get back. If I get back. I'm a terrible mother. Never thought I'd miss the roaring bustle of NYC._ Her surroundings were that of untouched, virginal nature though it was clearly not so, judging by how the elves found their way around.

Their company rode for most of the following day and it was that evening that they crossed a tumultuous river over a narrow bridge and into the most beautiful scenery Ilvana had ever seen. The valley before them spread out in greens and reds and blues, its lush appearance inspiring nothing but peace and tranquility. Ilva breathed in the clear air.

"The Last Homely House East of the Sea, some call it," Glorfindel said from beside her, having ridden close to Elladan's horse.

"Is that the one over there?" she pointed ahead. "Oh that is one piece of architectural eye candy alright," the woman marveled. And indeed a building of sorts could be discerned in the distance. As they rode closer she saw high pillared terraces, elegantly woven archways, all interspersed with the surrounding nature. She heard then saw the murmur of a familiar waterfall in the distance. And when they dismounted, she heard a familiar voice. _Have I... been here before?_

A dark-haired elf clad in flowing robes greeted the riders. There were others as well. All well wishes were spent it seemed, and when his eyes fell on Ilva she was taken by the perceptiveness of his gaze.

"Ilvana, this is master Elrond, and this is his home," Glorfindel supplied helpfully as an introduction.

"Mae govannen, Ilvana," their host offered, a knowing look in his eyes.

_What do I do, curtsy? _"Greetings," she lowered her head respectfully. _That'll do, I hope. _The one called Elrond acknowledged her with a nod, his gaze pleasantly encouraging. He then addressed Fin in their own language. _Ok, third wheel vibe here. _She looked around, taking in the way their group was slowly dispersing. Horses were being taken away, meetings were had with loved ones.

"Ilva, this is Idhres," the blond motioned to a willowy elf maid who had materialized seemingly out of thin air, standing close to them. "She'll help you get accommodated into a room."

"A room?" Ilvana looked to the maid, gaping at her beauty.

"Yes, Ilvana," Glorfindel said with a hint of exasperation, though not unkindly. "Are you against having one?"

"No!" the woman added hastily. "Quite happy with that, thank you very much."_ A bed, and possibly a bath_._Yes. Please._

When he grinned Ilva felt a bit lighter. "Rest, and I'll see you after?" Fin added, crystal gaze set on her.

"After," Ilvana nodded, somehow feeling ill at ease. She then turned to the elf maid, who had been regarding them curiously, the language they spoke a mystery to her.

"Well, after you... miss," the woman smiled unsteadily at Idhres, who took that as her cue to lead on.

The room she had been given was the stuff of dreams. Spacious, airy and spacey, it was the most elegantly crafted place Ilvana had ever been in.

"Talented craftsmen, these elves," she wondered at the carvings, the wide open windows allowing the gentle breeze to sweep through the chamber. Though wide open, somehow she doubted one could ever feel chilly here.

By the time Ilvana had finished admiring everything, a bath had been drawn, and she used the bath chamber following pointed instructions from Idhres. She then noticed her clothes were gone, but something like underclothes and a simple shift of a forest green color was spread out onto the bed for her. She gingerly touched the material, finding it very fine. Unusually excited, the woman went and tried it on. The garment had a boat neck and hugged her waist, flaring into soft flowing skirts.

"Thank you, this is... great... lady Idhres," she addressed the quiet elf, who only beamed at her, saying something to her in that strange tongue of theirs. Ilvana was starting to wish she knew at least a few words of it. The elf maid then pointed to her then to a chair, saying something. _I guess they don't need mirrors here, what with all of them looking perfect and all._

"You want me to sit there? Alright." As she did so, Ilva noticed a brush had appeared in the other's hand and the maid proceeded to disentangle and brush through her still wet hair.

"Oh really this isn't necessary, I mean... thank you," she followed gratefully. The treatment was definitely not what she was used to, not what anyone was used to nowadays unless they paid for it.

By the time they were done night had descended over the valley. Ilvana stared out the windows, ahead into the foreign blackness. The moon lay hidden beneath stray clouds.

Idhres motioned for her to follow and soon they were heading through wide corridors and closer to the sound of voices. They reached what looked like a wide hall, warm and pleasant. Looking to the end Ilvana noticed a large hearth between carved pillars, a lit fire burning steadily. It was the sole source of light within the large room, but still enough to see and discern faces. Gentle humming could be heard from some groups of elves who had gathered there. Turning towards Idhres, Ilvana found that the elf had left her to her own devices, having joined one of the groups in greeting. Ilvana looked around the room, searching for familiar faces. She saw the master Elrond to one side, speaking with the twin brothers she had journeyed with._ I wonder which one's Elladan _she mused offhandedly. _Hmm, they look rather similar, those three._

"They are his children," a voice sounded from behind her.

"Oh-" she turned to find the blond looking at the group, a goblet in hand. He no longer wore the military garb from earlier. Dark grey trousers and a knee-length black tunic cinched at the waist made his attire. It was simple, and it fit him well. As ever, gold streamed down his shoulders in waves.

_Gaping alert._ Ilvana looked away. "I figured. Not hard to determine. And Elladan was quite nice. He helped me to find my bearings."

Glorfindel nodded. "I asked him to."

Guilt was renewed with the memory. "Was that what you said before walking away when I,-" she hesitated.

"When you struck me in front of my entire company? No. That time I told him you're under my charge."

"And here I thought he was drawn to my pleasant mien and gentle approach," Ilvana said dryly, knowing she had been anything but.

Glorfindel smiled. "He finds you odd, a... freak, was it, you called me back then?"

Ilva cringed. "Sorry about that. I was very confused and harried, and who even sees elves at all, let alone up close? Ever?" she asked in mock despair.

"Could you have handled it better? Probably," he teased, in a way that both surprised and drew Ilva in for the charm of it. "But it was an expected reaction."

"I suppose." She turned fully to face him, eyes locking.

"I'm sorry, Fin. But I saw you, dead... lying there. Whenever I look at you now, I see it again-"

"Ilva please, not now. Soon. Later? I promise." It was as if he wanted to keep these few moments separate from whatever came _after_.

She lowered her head, ignoring the hurt coiling up her chest. "Sure, yeah. So, bury the hatchet?" Ilva brought her hand up to shake in a friendly gesture.

Glorfindel made no move to take it. "Would you like a drink, Ilva?"

"I forgot you don't do handshakes," Ilvana muttered lightly, lowering her hand. "And yes, please."

Soon after she was holding a goblet filled with the same kind of aromatic wine she had tasted on the road.

"You look well," the elf said then, taking a sip from his own goblet.

Ilva nearly choked on her drink. "Who are you and what have you done with Fin?"

He rolled his eyes, but the show of dimples and a tilt of his head reassured her. "Merely a fact."

"Right. Well, thank you..." _Awkward at getting compliments, check._ "So are you a lord or a knight here? What's the division? I mean, people seem to look up to you?"

The elf shook his head. "You don't need to trouble yourself with that."

"I just want to know... _lord_ Glorfindel?" Ilva added facetiously, eyebrows jiggling.

He huffed, his smile honest and bright, brief though it was.

_Yes, keep that grin going, that's it._

"This might surprise you, but I'm older than most folk gathered here. Between the two, I reckon the term _lord_ would work," came the admission.

"Older," Ilvana raised an eyebrow, appraising him critically. "How old can that be?"

"I think this is a topic for after," Glorfindel said with a strain in his smile.

_Curses._

She drank until Ilva found her goblet empty, and then somehow refilled. She drank that too, the unease of earlier taking hold. _After _was coming around sooner or later, and whatever the elf wanted to share with her was keeping the woman on her toes.

By now the gathering was merrier, and plenty of voices were raised in song. Someone started playing instruments and partners were even engaging in dance.

"So this is how elves have fun," Ilvana murmured, their eyes set on the swaying couples.

"Would you like to try?" she heard.

Her head shot up to look at him. "Try what?"

The elf turned to face her, setting his goblet onto the nearby table. "A dance. I'm asking."

_Is it the wine or is he looking at me _like that _again? Oh no you don't. Learned my lesson the first time._

"Sure," Ilva found herself saying, and in the next moment, her hand was in his, her waist encircled by his arm as the elf gently steered her away.

"I don't know the steps," she looked up at him. _Gosh, it's warm in here. _Whether from the wine or his closeness or both, Ilva wasn't certain. It was a grey area at best.

"No worries, luv, I won't let you stumble," the elf joked in the tone and manner of speech he used on Earth.

"There he is," Ilva smiled, the hand on his shoulder gently brushing strands of shimmering hair out of the way.

The rhythm was forgiving enough, the wine caused a pleasant drowsines. The young woman thankfully allowed herself to be led away and swayed in tune with his movements, dutifully obeying his gentle hedging. With him, like this, she briefly forgot her precarious situation, the storm of unbelievable events having torn her away from her peaceful, but bleak, existence. The worrying forces having flung her into a different world altogether, and here she was, playing get-together among a foreign race, light years away from her home. She would have crumbled under the weight of it all then but for his hands, keeping her upright, and the nearness of him strengthening her. It only added to her confusion.

"You're not terrible at this," the blond told her as Ilva swiftly checked her feet.

"Full of compliments tonight. This place does well by you, my lord."

A brief flash of annoyance crossed his face at the title. "Please, not you too."

"Alright, fine. You'll always be Fin, the jerky biker act I met in a bar."

"No, I won't," the elf said with such conviction it darkened her mood, and Ilva was about to ask for his meaning when the dance ended, and he steered them away to the side.

He seemed ill at ease, his mien serious, downed the last of his wine.

Ilva rubbed at her arm, watching him with some trepidation. "What's the matter?"

"Didn't you want to talk?" he eyed her then, and there Ilvana saw an unsettling glimmer of brokenness and something she could not place.

Her senses were riling, clawing up her throat. Ilvana bit her lip, unable to look away, as many, many times before. "Yes. Of course."

He nodded curtly. "The weather is forgiving enough. Come, join me in the gardens," and he started purposefully into a known direction, leaving Ilva no choice but to follow.

_Wants to get this over with, can't argue with that. _Her body felt strained, on edge. Ilvana tried to steady her breathing, falling in step with his strides as they continued on in silence. The moon was clear in the sky, their surroundings draped in its pale silver shine. Ilvana looked at him, finding a creased brow and a thoughtful expression. He stalked forward fluidly but somehow stiffly, and appeared almost... nervous?

_This is_ _going to be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> 'Mae govannen' = 'Well met' (Sindarin)


	17. Chapter 17

"This place is like a dreamland," she marveled as they walked ahead onto the moonlit path.

"In a way it is. Not sure for how much longer, though."

"What do you mean?" Ilva asked. They soon reached a sheltered archway surrounded by rich bushes. She took a seat onto a small stone bench by the thicket.

"I've told you before," he turned from her to look at the moon, "of the Evil awakening into our world. An ancient malice, ever struggling. So driven it even seeped into other worlds. Yours."

"Ron," she deadpanned.

"No, not 'Ron', Ilva. He was once named Mairon, a great servant of our guardians, the ones we call the Valar. But he was corrupted by the malice of one the elves call the Black Foe of the World, _Morgoth_. Became his servant. Though his master is now gone, he trudges on to the ruin of everything. For ages now he is known as The Abhorred for his deeds. Or _Sauron_, in our tongue."

_Yikes. _ _Well, that explains the flaming eyes and creepy powers._

The elf must've sensed her thoughts because he turned to face her. "And you went willingly into his lair."

"How was I to know? Give me some credit here. I had no idea who _you_ were, and you were not being much help either."

"But still you were bent on doing the exact opposite of what I asked."

"And why not, _Fin_? Why do as you said? So he wouldn't tell me all you kept from me?"

The elf shook his head, looked to the skies. "Nothing Sauron ever does is selfless."

Her eyes narrowed. "Call him what you will, but up until now he's been the most open about all of this."

Fin looked away. "There was a very good reason you should have remembered it all on your own."

"Which is?" His words were despairing. "We're going back to that part where I'm begging you to make sense already."

"To prevent all of this. Your confusion, your animosity towards me and your fear, your erratic transcendence between worlds which disturbs the balance of the Universe. You need not fear me, Ilvanya."

Her eyes cut to his, and Ilva found herself struggling to hold his gaze, laced with that same sadness from before. Somehow she dreaded the answer to her next question.

"And why is that?"

At this the elf wavered, making her wonder. But then he turned to face her fully and approached, dropping before her on one knee, his head bowed, hands on either side of her on the bench.

"What-"

"Because you knew me well once. Because of the nature of our connection. We were... In the First Age of our world, _you_ were Ilvanya Ectheliel. Daughter of one Ecthelion, a high lord of the Eldar, my companion, and-" the elf stopped, looked away briefly as if the next words took all the courage in the world. But then he looked back into her face, braving the end of his sentence "- and my wife."

She blinked.

_His what._

The words hovered in the air, failing to sink in.

Ilvana leaned sharply back into the bench as if smitten, the first impulse being to jump up and flee.

"Will you run from me again, Ilvanya?" the elf asked closing his eyes, drawing slightly away with a pained look that gave her pause.

"I..."

_Wife?_ "How-...why-..."

He looked to his hands, balling them into fists. "A long time ago," he began, "during the First Age of our world, there was a great conflict. Many suffered, many lives were lost. Our city, going by the name of Gondolin, was hidden from our enemies. But then it was betrayed, and ambushed by the wiles of the Black Foe. We tried to hold fast as we could. Plenty died, your... your father among them. The one called Ecthelion of the Fountain, high lord to one of the Twelve Houses of the King. I will tell you more about him, if you wish. Know that he is held in very high esteem among our kind." He swallowed a shaky breath. "We were unprepared. Having lost your father in the attack, then having seen my... my last stand, as it were, you were taken with grief. It affects our kind very strongly. With your thoughts muddled by the interference of Sauron, who sought to destroy the Eldar and loathed me in particular, and your pain... you chose to end your own life."

Ilvana tried to make sense of it all. "My dream... I saw... the cliffs, the abyss."

The elf nodded. "Your dreams were memories of your past life. And there is no path to Mandos nor Valinor for those who do this, Ilvanya."

"Mandos?"

"A purgatory of sorts. The closest I can compare it to a concept on Earth. Valinor would be the dwelling place for all of us eventually, once we left the shores of Arda as the beings of this realm know it."

"I pleaded with you to stay," she whispered then, the visions of fire coming to mind. She conjured every detail shown under the hand of Sauron. "But you went anyway. Regardless of me, of us, you went straight to your death."

"I had to do what was done, Ilvanya. The impulse was not mine alone. I felt Their guidance, Their assertion. I had to aid your escape... their escape. If I had not, the present world would be very different. But as it is, there is still hope here against the fell powers rising."

She looked to her hands. Everything was tangling together, revealing itself in a different light. "Your words are still so foreign to me. What in the world do you mean?"

The elf sighed. "Sauron is regaining some of his power and there are few who can stand against him. But those who can, are the descendants of the ones who escaped from the fall of Gondolin. From your former home."

"I... see." Or at least, she tried to see.

"After my fall, I was reembodied by Their grace."

Ilva grimaced, the concept still the stuff of fantasy to her mind. "So I was told."

The elf noticed her apprehension and paused. "While outrageous and impossible in your world, that may be the fate of the Firstborn upon the physical death of our bodies. Hearing what had happened to you, I was taken with grief and so I stood in Valinor for long years, until the Valar, the powers of our world, bid me return to Arda. I wished they hadn't. I didn't want it, not without you. I pleaded with them, Ilva, endlessly. To release you from the void, to give you back to me. Finally, they relented owing to my service, pleading with the One in their turn as their power was not enough to achieve this. I received my wish... somewhat, though they could offer no more than the conditions which led me to my search."

He stopped his account, regarding the woman in silence.

llva took a deep breath. _Here goes. _"Which were?"

"Your soul, which we call the fëa, was released from the endless void outside of Eä. Whither to, not even the Valar knew. But I was allowed passage to search for you, through set paths opened between worlds during certain periods of time. And search I did. Every time a path opened to me I took it. I traveled through countless realms, for years. I never found you. But then, They felt you in the part of the Universe where Earth resides. But none knew when or where your soul would be reembodied. Every fifty years or so of your solar Earth years, the path to your realm opens, a shift in time and space; by Their grace, I may... pass through. I have spent many, many years in your world, searching."

Something hard and heavy crumbled inside of her, leaving a hollow space. "All this time, you were searching for me?"

He looked at her, and again Ilvana found she couldn't meet his eyes for long. "Until it finally bore fruit."

"And you would live on Earth until the next path opened?"

"Allowing me to return here. Such is the case now, and the reason I am able to alternate being both here and there. Except this time, I found you." He seemed reluctant to look at her.

_Wait, so all of this, he'd been doing all of this, for..._

"But why?" the woman asked aloud before she could stop herself. _Ugh, Why the heck would you ask that? S__hoot yourself in the foot, Ilvana._

Glorfindel smiled sadly. "Because we vowed to be each other's beacon," the elf reached for her hand tentatively, but she flinched away. He drew his hand back.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry. This is just..._

"And how come that I can..." she made a brief gesture signifying flight.

"Owing to the nature of Their conditions, your fëa had traveled through countless circles of worlds. And was to do so until I found you. You could, should you decide to, choose where to dwell and how to live out the remainder of your existence. Remain as you are, or return to what you were. Sauron doesn't want this to pass. He needs you searching, he needs you wandering, for his own benefit and use. That is why he hunts you. Power always drove him, and always will. He has not enough of it to seep into a different realm. I suspect he tore through yours using a great many of his resources, only because he thought it worth his while."

"But you kept it all from me. You-"

"Understand, you had not awoken to me properly. I never meant to drive you away with all of this, nor are you bound by any oath. Our... bond, as it was, ended with your previous circle of life. But I hoped I would find you, and you would awaken to me again, and we would return together. But it was all forced upon you, so now it is all..." he fell silent.

_Fucked. _"Fin... Glorfindel, I-"

"This is a lot for you." He looked away from her, rising to stand.

Ilvana nodded, somehow needing him to do something. _Touch me. I need him to touch me._

"So if I remained here, would I be, like... you?" she gingerly reached and touched her ear.

"You would be elven kind, the same as I, by Their grace and agreement. That is what you always have been. In your world, you are human as reembodied there."

"And you- you mentioned being older than-?"

"Immortal actually, by general accounts. Compared to humans at least. The Eldar are bound to the fate of this world."

"You never die... unless you end yourself?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "We can still be harmed, hewn in battle, or waste away from grief, or by the urge of our own will."

She closed her eyes, started to massage her temples.

"We do not age visibly compared to Men, but we do. Here we would in the end sail to Valinor. A heaven of sorts," the elf smiled vaguely at her now questioning glance.

She took a deep breath, rose from the bench, started to pace around the garden. Finally, she stopped before him, studying his moonlit features.

_He looks, behaves and speaks so differently._ She smirked despite herself, a bitter thing, looking to her feet. "You have no idea how much I wish right now that you were just a regular blond dude with a strange accent, calling me 'luv'."

"I am both, Ilvanya. Over there I developed a persona that most helped me stay out of sight and enabled me in my search. Most of it evolved... organically." He dared a small smile of his own, and close as they now were reached for her shoulder. The touch burned into her despite the material. Ilva stared into his eyes, next sensing the light touch of his fingers grazing her chin. Her body seemed to sway and react in a completely different direction to her mind. _Oh man, I need-_ He was so close. She needed him closer still, his vision strayed to her lips-

Ilvana drew away, heart pounding against her ribs from all the right and wrong reasons. "I think, I need to go home now. To Earth. To think." _Smooth, Ilvana. Like sandpaper._

He nodded in understanding, and Ilva found it strange that she felt an influx of turbulent emotions spanning from him, seeping into her through invisible threads. She wondered if the elf felt her in the same way, and whether it was due to the connection he claimed they shared.

_Wife?_

"Of course. There is yet some time, but not much. Until the path closes again."

_I knew there__ was a damn catch_. "What do you mean?"

"Now my search is ended. I have no sway over your decision. Whatever that may be, I am to return to Arda, and here I will remain once the path between our realms closes. That was Their condition. I can only try to protect you from _him, _and attempt to bar him from that realm while I still can. You may choose to continue with your current life there, and that is-"

_Well, this freaking hurts. This-_

"-that is good," the elf added reluctantly, and the young woman saw how much it took from him to say it. "If it will keep you happy," he finished, his tone rather defeated. "I am aware it is all you've ever known, and takes plenty of thought, even if you..." he looked away.

"Even if I, what?" the woman hedged, kicking herself mentally for it.

"Even if you wished to be together again."

Her face fell. Ilvana fumbled awkwardly with her sleeve. Bit her lip. "Well, thank you, I appreciate... you." _Fucking shut up Ilva._

"We can return together, tomorrow," the elf changed the subject, making her feel extremely grateful and deflated at the same time. "I will take you there. You might remember it as the place you ran through when fleeing the wraiths."

"The fondest of memories indeed," Ilva smiled sarcastically, his previous words wrenching holes into her overwhelmed mind.

"I suppose you'd like some time to yourself now."

"You do know me so well," Ilva said kindly. But did she? Apparently not.

A vague, lifeless smile was her only reply. "You know your way back?"

Ilvana nodded.

With that, the elf bid her farewell in that same manner she had seen before with others of his kind, hand to his heart, and left her alone in the moonlit garden.

Ilvana watched him disappear amid the darkened flora. Her chest felt too tight, her mind was on fire. _Ilvana Day, you are all kinds of idiot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> To add, the concept of suicide barring one's way to Mandos is entirely fan fiction and not canon.


	18. Chapter 18

She had retired relatively early following the discussion with the elf, but the morning found Ilva lacking sleep. _I wanted to go home. Smelly, noisy, lively NYC. Myra. Nox. Even that crappy corp job. Home is not here, _she kept her mantra of sorts. _Careful what you wish for is the moral of this story_. Before their departure, the ever courteous and careful household had provided the young woman with a riding garb of sorts; a long white shirt with the same style of grey trousers and tunic the border guards wore. All comfortable and light. They had even gifted her with a weapon of sorts, a light dagger with an intricately embellished hilt. _No idea how to use it, but it's better than nothing._ She looked about the valley, the beauty of it somewhat invigorating. _Is _everything_ perfect here? Nah, I don't believe it. These guys can be nasty. The lip on Blondie is proof of that._

_Blondie._

A different race from a different world. Apparently her own. He'd sacrificed much for his realm, and yet... here he was again, exuding strength, a positive presence to all. As by now, it was undeniable to her that it was so. Ilva found herself dwelling on his character, on how deeply he hid; tried to tell her without telling; and on the honesty of his confession. _I don't deserve what he did._

_Wait._

_I__ didn't ask for it. _Surely, she did recall the pain of losing him, feeling it, and somehow understood not being able to live with it all. But Ilvana of Earth failed to recall much else of her apparent previous life. Unless she counted sparse fragments and dreams_. I didn't ask him to request my freedom, to come looking for me. _She was freer for choice in the void than she was now, that was certain. The fact that making a default decision was an issue showed, in itself, how much he had come to matter in her life. _But this is not home__. I can't, no matter how much I need him. I couldn't. Not here. _Then her eyes fell on her approaching traveling companion. Over his lithe cloaked figure, his even stride. That golden head and bright steady gaze, unwavering as he looked at her, and she knew it would not get any easier. _Becoming a different__ race. Learning to live all over again._

Still, her nerves coiled in anticipation whenever he was close. Whenever they touched her senses sang. Ever since she could remember. What would it mean...

_Stop it Ilva._

She tried not to think about the depth of his actions, the dedication of his search. He loved her._ I mean, I guess he must? Would I go search for someone across worlds otherwise? _The thought was chilling, in a way._ I didn't ask for it. I did not ask for this in my life. _That was the aspect she somehow couldn't drop. At the same time, she wouldn't blame him for it.

Glorfindel was just bringing his horse to their meeting spot, and her eyes strayed from him to the most beautiful white steed she had ever seen.

Ilvana regarded the animal with wonder as it reached her side, admiring the thickness of his mane and the sheen of his body. It was strong yet elegant. His eyes were almost human in their intensity, and his gracefulness was a treat to observe.

"Good morning," she tried casually.

"Have you taken everything? Your other clothes?" the elf asked by way of greeting.

"All set, my lord," she smiled.

A near eye roll was the nuanced response she received before his attention went to the horse. _At least this isn't weird, all things considering._

"And who is this?" Ilva tentatively reached to touch the strong neck of the steed.

The elf patted the horse gently, eyes flickering to hers only briefly. "This is Asfaloth. He will bear us well, for a while." He turned to her. "Unless you can ride your own horse?"

"You already know the answer to that one." _Bareback again. Great._

The asshole smirk returned, but somehow Ilva found it way less irritating than before._ Knowing his regard for you might have something to do with that. _She tried to shrug it off, but his words were so fresh in her mind, her heart. His wife. He had always felt so familiar, in a starstruck sort of way. Like somewhere she wanted to return to. _Oh god. This is not good._

It was just the two of them and goodbyes had been sparse. It was best to keep their known location under wraps if possible.

"So," she began, once the elf nimbly mounted behind her and they started at a slow trot, "You named your motorcycle after your horse huh? That's kind of cute."

"Not a term I've ever been described with."

"First time for everything."

She thought she heard him scoff. Daring a glance sideways Ilva noticed the elf stood straight astride Asfaloth, hands on his thighs. _Showoff__._ It left her fumbling to try and figure out a good, or at least bearable position as she kept sliding this way and that. _Something to keep me from swaying off the horse, if possibl_e.

"Hold on to his mane. He won't begrudge you that."

"You sure?" Ilva looked to the hand she had propped against her thigh and that was all it took to lose her balance, forcing her to lean back into him instantly for support.

"Very sure," and with that, his hand slipped over her wrist. "Hold on here," the elf showed her and as her fingers caught hold of the soft hair, she couldn't ignore how his chest pressed against her back briefly before regaining his position. _Puppies, Ilva. Better yet, think of those orc things._

"You're always teaching me to ride things." She cringed when he laughed lowly. _Ok, forgot he's attuned to shitty Earth humor. Walked right into that one._

"I seem to have the unfortunate honor," she heard the dry reply.

"I have to admit Asfaloth the motorcycle is easier to handle. No offense dearie," she addressed the horse, who deigned a dignified snort.

They trotted along and over the narrow bridge, and Ilva turned her head to look back on the shimmering valley. _The likes of which I may never see again._

"So how far is the place?"

"A little over two days' riding."

"Stuck with me then," Ilva said before she cringed again. "I- I meant,"

"Ilvana, don't be awkward. I'm still someone you can talk to."

Despite herself, Ilva snorted in amusement. "I still can't decide if I like or detest this forward manner of yours."

"You're free to do both," and she sensed that same subverted mirth in his tone.

They had packed very minimally as to not burden Asfaloth further and soon they were out of Imladris and onto the road. Half of the day passed by uneventfully, with Ilva making inquiries about this and that aspect of this world. Soon after they stopped for a respite, more for Ilvana if one were being honest, before starting again. When evening came the elf led them slightly off the road into a small glade.

"Search for dried grass or bark. We'll use it for tinder. I'll find wood for the fire." And with these instructions they each set on their task. She had to marvel at his skill when the elf started the fire in a little under a minute, and soon bright flames were lighting their features as they stood on either side. Ilva had turned her cloak into a blanket of sorts and she pondered, eyes caught by the flickering flames.

"Would you tell me more about my father?" she asked the blond after some time spent in silence.

"Anything specific you would like to know?"

She frowned, deliberating. "Actually, I don't know. How was he, I guess? Do I look like him or my mother? That kind of stuff."

"Tall, dark of hair. Silver eyes. Very good fighter, and an even better musician, or so I would rile him."

"Oh?" she was intrigued. _Art runs in the family huh._

"He played a mean flute," the elf smiled in remembrance.

There was a faraway look in his eyes. Ilvana felt her bones mellowing. "Were you close?"

"We were. We fought and traveled together many times."

"How did he..."

"...end?"

"Oh wait, you said..."

"In the same ambush on our city. He fought so bravely tales will always be sung of him. Killed three of the kind of demons you saw me face. Then their leader. But during that last stand he was lost."

_Crud._

"And my mother?"

"Narye is her name. The fiery one, owing to her character. She was tall and fair, her will strong and decisions wise. I think you took after her in those respects." He stopped, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Maybe save for the part concerning decisions."

"Oh shut up," but she was grateful somewhat for him trying to lighten the mood. "Was she...?"

"She was among the fallen."

"This just gets better."

"You wanted to hear all of it."

"I know."

"But, and I do not know whether this is a measure of comfort or not..." he was hesitant to continue.

"What? You cannot leave me hanging like this," Ilva urged smiling rather sheepishly. "I've already heard things to ply my brain. Whatever it is, spill it."

"They await, they... dwell, in Valinor."

Ilvana remembered what he had told her of the nature of elves. If she were to stay, she would eventually see her true parents again. Ones who brought her soul into existence.

"And you," the elf continued, his focused gaze somewhere else, "you were noted for your unusual shade of auburn hair. Carnifinde, we used to call you." He smiled as he stirred and stoked the flames. "When we left Valinor for the world you were in your four hundredth year. We became close facing the perils of the Crossing." He paused, his eyes darkening.

"The Crossing?"

Glorfindel looked to the star trails above. "It was a bitter, cold place. Imagine passing through Antarctica wearing nothing but leather boots and linen cloaks for cover. Our horses died first." His expression changed, and he looked at her with some unease. "A story for another time, maybe."

Ilva wanted to know more, to relearn of the world she had apparently lost. And of them. But then it appeared to hurt him at times, and so she was reluctant to continue. And maybe the elf sensed her apprehension at that line of discussion, as he said no more. After a while he rose, making Ilva look up at him in askance. "What are you doing?"

"There's a lake nearby. Heading over for a quick night swim."

"Still enjoying that English lingo from you in those clothes. But now? In the night?"

He tilted his head to the side, regarding her with a strange smile. "We have no such issues as humans do. I can see very well under most any conditions."

"Of course you can."

He grinned, she grinned back. _No, not _that_ look again, please._

"We're safe here but stay by the fire. I won't be long." And with that, he discarded his cloak and strode into the woods. Ilvana stood there, a thousand thoughts melding and crashing against each other. She wanted to know more of their past together but hated to be a nuisance. And dreaded to be drawn back to the fact that there was a pending decision over their heads, over her head. _You're completely besotted with him, stranger from the stars and all. But is that enough? _No. It usually never was. Ilvana had wanted to know the truth so much, and now she wished she had listened to him. If only to give her more time. Soon the young woman saw the object of her thoughts reemerge from the wood. As he approached she saw his hair was wet.

_Oh man._

"Jeez, won't you catch your death of cold? Hey!" Ilva quipped when he made a motion to air dry his hair, splattering her with cold water.

He chuckled. Were elves supposed to chuckle? Something quivered inside of her at the youthful display.

"Your worries are unfounded. We don't suffer disease, remember?"

"Rub it in why don't you," Ilvana slowly stood with the intent of stretching her legs. She looked at him.

"I always found that to be an odd saying," Glorfindel spoke.

His voice was music in ways she had not heard before, and his eyes were strange in how they pinned her, kept her strung as though she were about to snap.

Before Ilvana could assess how bold or sane she was acting, she found herself moving closer to him. "What else do you find odd?" the woman asked quietly as she neared.

"Fewer things than I used to," Glorfindel replied, in the same tone as before. It was strangely soft, somewhat strangled yet inviting. It suited him.

"Owing to your being an old geezer by all accounts?" Ilvana joked.

"Hah." There was a glint of amusement in his gaze. "I'll refrain from any comments lest you start being awkward again."

Ilvana scoffed at that. He stood at ease, watching her expectantly. And she was before him, watching her own hand moving of its own accord. Her palm she placed to his chest. Something was happening to her, something pulled her in, closer. She knew she wanted him, deeply, selfishly. No surprise there. Ilvana couldn't look at him, afraid he would see it in her eyes. Afraid he would see it was all she was capable of giving at this point. But was it ever strong. Her hand slid slowly upward, pressed against the soft material of his garment, over his heart; reached around his neck.

_You need to stop._

Her fingers curled into his hair_._ Ilvana locked eyes with him then, felt his arm come winding around her waist, bringing her closer. Then the other. It felt good. Very good. So good she was already drowning in the familiar haze of want and anticipation. His gaze was burning coal. _It's been so long. And he loves you._

His eyes had closed, leaving her staring at parted lips. She longed to taste. _Just once, just__..._ Only to feel the pressure. She reached up to him on her tiptoes.

_I want you. _She had to tell him. "I..." the young woman breathed, eyes closing, her body leaning completely into his.

If ever she had felt desire from anyone in her life, it paled like flowers in the burning sun compared to this. But so it was for the struggle she felt, in the way he held her, in the grudging way his fingers clutched at her clothes.

Hesitation pulsed through him, as well as a foreign ache she couldn't place. "The burden... is not yours alone," the elf whispered then, making her pause. His words felt spoken by another.

Ilva opened her eyes. Uncurled her fingers from his hair, brought both hands back against his chest. Stared at them.

_What the hell am I doing?_

The spell broken, his hold on her loosened. In the next moment Ilvana felt warm palms cupping her face, gently tilting her head upward. Seeing his eyes smothered any sting of rejection. His gaze was blue flame, reflecting what she felt, needed. _Then, why?_

"I want you," she whispered, either way, needing him to hear it. _Unfair, you're being unfair Day. And selfish._

"I know," came the words. "But not like this."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His longing burned her all the same. And then the elf placed a hand over hers, which were still splayed against his chest. "Come. I don't need the rest, but I believe you do."

Ilva nodded and disentangled herself from him. They spoke no more. Slowly she made her way back to the fire. She descended close to its warmth, so weak and faded compared to his. Ilvana curled on her side and aimed for sleep, ever thankful for him being the wiser.


	19. Chapter 19

Ilvana looked absently over the surrounding woods and slowly changing foliage. The motion of the steed's gait lulled her into a calming cadence. A bright day shone through the forest as they went, stray sun rays beaming through yellowing crowns of trees. They had started in the early hours of the morning and there was one more day of travel, and a night to spend outdoors before they would reach the path to cross over into her home_._

_Home. I miss it. I need to be home. I need-_ then his thigh brushed hers and the remainder of her thought seemed to dilute and disperse like gulls over stormy seas. Certainty was a bygone commodity by far. Would they go their separate ways once they pass through or how would this play out? How long until she had to make a decision on this, this... what was it? Connection? Would she even dare call it a relationship? Apparently it had been once. It was surely hard for her to define with so many facets to it, some of which the woman was barely starting to grasp. She probably should ask the elf, speak more of it, but not now. _Later_. The thought was put off, pushed away.

The silence didn't bother her, not after the previous night. Ilva had been somewhat worried things would be strange and different between them after her digression. Then when she felt fingers grazing over her cheek and gentle words hedging her to wake, then looked into those eyes, she saw that it was indeed not the same. It was one step further. Above the bantering, sparring with words and verbal attacks. It was anything but strange. It was liberating. There had been an unspoken truth between them, one openly acknowledged now. Ilva felt him keenly try though she did to stay adrift. When his arm slipped around her waist steadying her against him she welcomed it without thought.

"Fin?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Just indulge me. Does the master Elrond of Imladris know of this? Of your, of your... search?"

"He does, though the others do not."

Ilva nodded in silence. _I thought he was looking at me funny._

"We stop here," his voice vibrated against her after some time, taking the woman out of her thoughts. "There is a stream to water Asfaloth and refresh if needed." By the time she had gotten used to riding like this Ilvana was accustomed to leaning against him, and though it did strange things to her body it was miles better than the awkward attempts at standing straight.

They found a spot for respite in the late afternoon. The weather was colder here and Ilva pulled her cloak tighter around herself. She watched him striding to and fro, grooming Asfaloth or gathering wood for a fire; watched and longed. _Alright, so... options. Keeping to life as I know it and never seeing him again versus spending forever at his side. In a world completely unknown to me. Then again, I'd have forever to get used to._

Thinking these thoughts, sitting cross-legged on the ground she watched him, her brave golden warrior from this foreign realm straight out of a fantasy novel.

_No, not yours. Not freaking yours._

_But he could be, _her mind followed meekly, voicing another thought.

Ilvana had never thought to find such dedication in someone else. Then it just came to her_. I suppose that's how it all works. You gain what you need, not what you think you__ want_. And how ungrateful would she be, to deny what the laws of life had brought in all these twists and turns? When she so obviously needed it. Him. But then there was home, her own life. _Hell, even the simple things I take for granted would be a memory here._

And who was she kidding? This guy... this elf, lived to hunt and defeat Evil, which apparently was a pretty literal concept around here, communed with deities on his time off. _What the hell could I be to him? He should have someone else. Someone more like him, like Idhres or whatever other perfect beings exist here. From the present, not the past. Not worlds apart._

Ilva thought she heard him speak, focused her vision. "Sorry, what was that?"

The elf descended down in front of her, a mild expression on him. _He knows. Of course he knows._ And she was indeed thankful for him not reopening the subject, for giving her time sorely needed to mull over it all.

"A word. We should be on guard here. Know that it's not as safe as in the vicinity of Imladris. There are things in the wilds you do not want to stumble upon."

"That's encouraging," Ilvana smirked as her hand reached, fingers sliding through a stray strand of luminous wavy hair.

"And not a joke," Glorfindel added sternly, ignoring her ministrations. "Stay close to me."

"I'll be sure to alert you when I go do my business," Ilvana dropped her hand.

"You really need to work on your humor," the elf deadpanned, reaching and retrieving a dry leaf from her own hair.

"That's funny," Ilva groused, "I don't remember you ever _not_ giggling at my lines."

"Then your memory is faulty also," the elf muttered as he rose to stand, half a smile pulling at his lips. Even as he said the last word his smile fell, and he threw her an apologetic look.

Ilvana looked away. _Well you're right about that one._ "So where's this stream?" she asked instead, unwilling to dwell on the proverbial elephant in the woods.

They followed together with Asfaloth until they reached the aforementioned water source, and Ilva took the chance to wash her face and hands. The water was cold and clear. She stared at the shallows, the mosaic of colors bedecking the stream bed. As she did so, that same nagging thought resurfaced. It felt as if her mind was conjuring the strangest concepts lately. _He didn't do this for you, not in the way he says._

Her golden warrior...

What a laugh. Look at him._ Look at me_, the woman eyed her own reflection in the water. _I wouldn't know the first thing about anything compared to him. _No, definitely not hers. "Why did you really come looking for me?" the question escaped her as she gaped at the water. _Brilliant. Foot in your mouth, Day._

She felt his eyes on her and met them, nearly wavering under the intensity of that gaze. It seemed to her, that for all intents and purposes, he was fire.

"I meant what I said," spoke Glorfindel, his face as serious and honest as she'd ever known him.

"But maybe that was only part of it all?" Ilva hesitated.

He faced her fully then, and they both stood before each other near the bank. "Say what you mean," his now icy words cut the air between them.

"Maybe..."_ Tell him. _"Maybe you felt guilt as well, for what I'd done after your... passing? Maybe your wish to find my spirit comes from wanting to make amends." Ilva saw his expression morph into one she hated to see on his face. "But- don't feel that you must, I mean you shouldn't-..." the woman added hastily into his darkening gaze. _Can't ever shut up, Day. _Something told her to stop, but that was not an option anymore. "I mean, as you said, what we had ended with your previous life and-"

The elf looked sharply away, causing a painful tug in her chest. "Is it me you are trying to convince with this, or yourself?"

_Is he really so blindsided?_ Frustration peaked, and words rolled off her tongue in a torrent. "Let me get this straight. You're immortal, you've gathered the wisdom of ages but you _can't_ see that there's nothing to pull us together? We're so very different-" Ilvana stopped, the words catching in her throat. Before she could finish her thought, his hand was on her arm. His other hand reached behind her head and so she was brought in, so close Ilva could again sense the intoxicating fragrance of him.

"Are we, Ilvanya? Are we so different?" Glorfindel hissed, and as if to prove a point, he reached to brush his thumb across her lower lip. He saw her eyes closing, heard her bursting erratic heartbeat. "Are we different _now_? Do you think I don't sense all that you feel? Do you think I feel any different? If I told you otherwise I'd be a coward and a liar. And perhaps more deserving of your scalding words."

His words came swift and somewhat bitter, and uncalled for thoughts of the previous night came to her mind. "Yet you do nothing about it," Ilvana prodded with a mocking smile, needing to release her bile. She was instantly brought even more into him by a steel grip, felt his fingers digging into her arm and for one heart stopping moment thought he would-

Glorfindel released her as if burnt, turning on his heel with an intake of breath. He began a silent retreat towards the woods.

_Great, I've struck a nerve. Badly. _Not what she had intended. Still, something within would not give in and she continued, feeling inflamed. "You said it was _my_ choice!" Ilvana quipped to his turned back. _Why can't I stop antagonizing him? Why does this always happen?_

"Nothing more and nothing less," the elf replied as he paced away into the direction of the small camp.

Left to her own near the stream, the woman heaved a deep sigh. Ilva looked over the shimmering waters, gliding peacefully towards the unknown. _As long as I'm here._ She started to unfasten her tunic, took off her long shirt. She washed herself sparsely in the stream, thoughts meandering.

_Stubborn, infuriating ..._ she mumbled in thought.

When done Ilva pulled on her shirt hastily again, the cold already seeping in. She was just about to reach for her tunic when she heard a shuffle behind her.

"Fin, I really hope you haven't been there all this time," she grumbled, turning around. "I took you for many things but a Peeping Tom was not one of th-" she gasped.

Bulging yellow eyes were scrutinizing her, long fangs glistening in a wide bloody maw. The creature watched her with human interest, following every move. Coming closer.

Its growling sent shivers through her core. Its teeth ground viciously. It was immense. Much larger than what she had ever seen a wolf could be. Its fur looked harsh and oily, and scarred with old wounds.

_Think. Think! _But fear was slowly choking her mind and on pure instinct Ilvana scrambled to the side in an attempt to escape. The beast cut and jumped high on its powerful legs to reach her but the woman ducked and rolled, barely evading its teeth.

"Fuck!" the woman cried as she rose to run, fumbled to pull out the dagger recently given. She stumbled and the animal nearly caught up with her but she managed to keep to her pace, just out of reach. Then to her horror Ilvana thought she saw another beast of the same sort running after her, but then her vision focused on running without crashing into something and lost sight of it.

There was no better grace, no greater image of relief than seeing the elf, rushing towards her and drawing his sword.

The warg seemed to still focus on Ilvana, who ran past Fin as he went for the offensive.

"Oh crap, you'll fight that thing alone? No!"

"Climb into the trees!" the elf yelled as his sword blocked the now enraged beast's maw. "Now!" he commanded when she hesitated.

Ilvana rushed to the closest trunk, climbing and turning to look helplessly on as the elf clashed with the bear sized animal, trying to find an opening to strike. The fell beast was nimble for its size, evading blows with swift movements. But the elf was faster. In two more turns he pivoted and plunged the blade forcefully through its neck.

Ilva looked on in terror as Glorfindel barely righted himself to retrieve his blade before something fast and heavy crashed into him. Another creature of the same ilk. Its fangs sank deep into his unarmored shoulder and the woman saw him grit his teeth in pain. Both beast and elf had crashed to the ground with the impact, and were now grappling furiously. Its growls were deafening. They had rolled over below the tree where Ilvana still stood atop a sturdy branch, eyes desperately searching.

_Do something do something Day, you cow do something._ With her following breath, on complete impulse and without so much as a second thought Ilvana firmly grasped the dagger in hand and flung herself out of the tree. She landed atop the raging animal with a cry, thighs grasping its hide, and barely met the elf's surprised gaze before thrusting her dagger to the hilt into the beast's neck, twice. It roared deafeningly, and with a violent shiver threw Ilvana off so powerfully the woman landed and hit her head hard against a nearby tree trunk.

Her ears were singing, her head was in a swoon. The beast was still. Regaining her vision, she saw the elf running towards her.

The young woman rose swiftly on trembling hands and knees, grasping his arm when Glorfindel reached her.

"I didn't see them, suddenly by the stream, I just turned and they were there-," the words spilled all at once.

"How could you be so foolish?" he interrupted.

She looked at him dumbfounded, still panting. "I had to do _something_!" she ground out. "Fin, you're bleeding, we should-"

Glorfindel ignored her, taking her strongly by the shoulders; the move so sudden she went dizzy, grasping his arms for leverage.

"Do you want to die here?" he shook her.

"Of course not!" Ilvana met his stare evenly, swallowing hard at the distress flaring through him. He was afire again, blazing blue-white.

"Then do as I say," he shook her again for emphasis, "and don't ever again throw yourself at beasts you've never even seen the likes of before." The tone was final, his voice calm but clipped and hitched with the labored rise and fall of his chest. His eyes betrayed so much more than worry, yet Ilvana chose to dismiss it all.

"Well forgive me if I don't want something happening to _you _either! Again." Her voice trailed off at the last word.

Glorfindel looked at her icily for a long while. He lowered his head, the grip on her arms slackening, though he appeared unable to release her.

Somehow, seeing his state Ilvana could do nothing but relent. "I'll try to. I will. Your shoulder-"

"No time," the elf rose suddenly, aiding Ilva to her feet. "Where there is one warg, there are always more to follow. We'll be lucky if the rest haven't yet picked our scent. We can't stay here," the elf explained hastily as they were pacing to find Asfaloth.

Ilva saw him grimace once or twice as he moved, crimson stains seeping through his garb. "Crud, this is my fault, I shouldn't have stayed so much over by the water. I'm-"

"Stop it," Glorfindel threw offhandedly as he called for his steed. "I should never have left."


	20. Chapter 20

It was a swift, hard ride. The elf was urging the steed ever faster, and they had not stopped for respite as usual nor ceased their trek before night swallowed the day, the intent being to place as much distance between them and the warg threat as possible. Ilvana was holding onto the horse's mane for dear life, their surroundings changing at lightning speed around her. They had not spoken a word to each other since the happening. It only added to the heaviness already pressing onto her mind and chest.

Ilvana thought about the events, wondering why indeed she had done what she did. Seeing him bitten by that creature had awoken something inside that she had no control over in that moment. It was the flashes of his lifeless face from her dreams, striking her in the gut like a knife that sent her over the edge. She considered the fact that she normally would have never, ever have dared to face another human - even one her own size - in a physical confrontation, let alone attack a creature the size and strength of a four by four. _He was right, do I have a death wish or something? That was by all accounts, the stupidest thing you've ever done, Day. _Ilvana only realized they had stopped when she no longer felt the warmth of him at her back, and looked to see Glorfindel dismounted and heading towards a rocky formation, part of a larger tree decked hill.

"Stay here," he said, turning from her before Ilvana herself had a chance to dismount.

Slightly unnerved at being left alone in the dark, she leaned forward and crossed her arms around Asfaloth's neck. "I'm sorry we rode you so hard buddy. And I'm sorry your dad's pissed. That's my fault, I know. Can't be helped, stepping on his toes is my talent. But you and I are still good, right?"

The steed snorted softly. "Glad you feel the same," she smiled, her eyes closing with fatigue, head resting against the fine mane. She then heard a whistle and felt the horse start to move. She righted her position "Where-" but then stopped upon seeing the elf waiting for them, near what looked to be the entrance to a cave.

"We'll spend the night here, better to be sheltered," Glorfindel explained taking the small bags from the horse, while the woman clumsily dismounted.

Ilvana saw it was a small enclosure but still wide and high enough for two people to take shelter. The mouth of the cave was just as wide as the hollow space inside. Asfaloth descended to rest beside it leisurely, legs bent under him.

After telling Ilva to stay put again - seemingly having defaulted to that sentence when it came to her - the elf went away only to return after a short time carrying dry wood and what looked like tinder material. Kneeling down, he then proceeded to kindle a very weak fire, probably not wanting to draw too much attention, though the cave was somewhat sheltered by a thicket around them.

Ilvana was grateful for the warmth such as it was. She had lost her outer tunic in the ambush by the stream which left her clad in only her long shirt, and the cloak she had saved and now wrapped closer to her body. Her eyes followed his actions, caught by the red stain and torn material where the beast's jaws had dug into his shoulder. The woman wavered, considering how to ask if the elf would do anything about it, when she saw him sit back down cross-legged, rummaging through one of the bags. He retrieved what looked like a jar with paste, then the water pouch and pieces of cloth. His scabbard set aside, she watched him proceed to remove his cloak, belt, and vambraces. Ilvana noticed it was decidedly harder to use the arm on his injured side and so the elf started to unfasten his tunic with his good hand. He grimaced as he began to remove the garment, which meant lifting his arm properly to take the sleeve off.

"Let me help you with that," Ilvana found herself saying, already rising.

Glorfindel regarded her with something like swift surprise before shaking his head, about to protest-

"Come on, Fin. It's the least I can do, and you know it would work faster. Let me. Please?" Ilvana tried, her words closest to pleading than she ever recalled.

The elf studied her for another moment before nodding shortly, which Ilva took as her cue to shift by his injured side. "I'll try to lift your arm to take this off," and she did so, helping to remove his blue outer tunic, leaving him in a silken light grey shirt. It was stained dark red in the shoulder area. Ilvana felt surprisingly calm and composed at the sight of so much blood. In fact, the imagery somehow made her feel all the more determined to do this right.

The woman then moved in front of him. Their eyes held as Glorfindel opened the fastenings of his shirt with his good hand. _Eyes up Ilvana. Good job._ Ilva waited until he was done, then hedging closer she reached, fingers sliding curiously over the exquisite quality of the material. She took his hand and removed the sleeve, then shifting and standing up on her knees for better access, Ilva set her attention on removing the shirt off his injured side.

"Crud, it stuck to the wound here."

"Just pull it off, it has to be done," he urged.

Ilva gathered his mane of gold and placed it over his good shoulder. Then she tried to be gentle but the blood had dried during the day. She pulled anyway, managing to expose the wound and finally attempted to lift his arm slowly; saw him grit his teeth. Her hand came over her mouth._ Oh, man. _The bite marks lined both sides of his shoulder, front to back where they deepened as the warg had used its bite force to sink them well into the flesh. Dark red violations on white, pristine skin. The fangs had been thick, meaning the puncture wounds were of uneven but visible diameter. The sight made her lower her head, and guilt brimmed in her chest. Fingers wrapping around his wrist, Ilvana lifted his arm and removed the garment altogether. Then she looked back at him. "Ok, what's next?" Ilva asked, her eyes firmly on his own bright ones.

"It needs to be cleaned, but I'm not sure if you can-"

"I'll try," she said determinedly, taking the cloth and water pouch and adjusting her position. The young woman then sat parallel with his injured shoulder to see both sides.

"Do the wounds look blackened at the edges?" the inquiry came.

"I don't think so," Ilvana examined the area as much as could be done in the faint light. "I assume that would be extremely bad?"

"Warg bites can kill humans from infection alone. Elves get a terrible time of it but pull through, as with most poisons."

"Not something to look forward to either way."

He shook his head. Wetting the cloth Ilvana started to wipe the dry blood off, cleaning as well as she could.

"Is there another cloth?" she asked after a while.

Glorfindel handed her a smaller piece of material which she drenched in water and used to wipe the area a second time. As she worked, being positioned slightly behind him now, with curiosity more than anything Ilvana noticed the harmonious lines of his neck and shoulder outlined by the fire. _Snap out of it Day._

"I think I'm done here," Ilva said as she gave the wound another once over. "I saw some ointment, is that medicine?"

"Correct," the elf added, handing her the jar. "Salve from a potent plant used here for medicinal purposes and not only. Athelas. It will aid with healing and acts as an antiseptic."

The woman smiled to herself as she opened the jar, his use of modern English in this place still amusing for some reason._ Tomorrow, I'll be back._ The notion caused both a stir of relief and uneasiness. Ilvana proceeded to gingerly spread the salve over the wounds and finally reached for what looked like long clean strips the elf had taken from one of the bags. The wound was wrapped over, as well as she could manage.

"There, the best I could do," Ilvana shifted back in front of him, legs bent under her, eyes briefly taken with how the light of the flames licked over his bare chest as he reached for his shirt. She quickly averted her gaze. _I shouldn't be thinking about these things._ Leaning closer Ilvana helped draw the garment over his back, then helped with the sleeve on the arm of his injured side. She aided in fastening the shirt in place over his chest, fingers working upward, before moving to the sleeves.

"Hantan tyen, Ilvanya," Glorfindel said as the woman faced him, followed by a slight incline of his head.

The meaning was unknown, but she saw it in his eyes. She smiled. "You're welcome."

Ilvana then noticed she hadn't released his sleeve; her hand had moved of its own volition, sliding over his, fingers splaying against his palm. She felt the pressure of a light grip. She swallowed. "What were those... wargs?" the young woman tried, a vague attempt to distract them both.

"I told you before, he searches for you. The wargs are his minions. Intelligent beasts he had corrupted. They follow his will, and he may even see through their eyes if so he desires."

"Well, that complicates things doesn't it?" Ilvana sighed, muttering.

"Now that Sauron knows you're here where he is in his power, he _will_ hunt you. I think he sees you as an important tool to support his efforts," he briefly grimaced in pain, causing her grasp on his hand to tighten without thought.

"He did say that much. That he and I 'could achieve great things together'_,_" Ilvana drawled facetiously, rewarded when she saw a tired smile.

They sat for a few moments in silence, dwelling on the crackling of the flames and the wisps of a mild wind rushing through the trees. He was so very warm. Ilvana knew it was high time to pull away, but releasing his hand was proving a daunting task.

"Will you forgive me?"

"...?" Her eyes cut to his, confused.

"For my outburst today," his eyes were troubled again. "I lost my composure, something which I like to think rarely happens but-" Glorfindel paused, frowning, his eyes set on their joined hands. "But I admit that I was afraid. A foreign sentiment. Save for when it concerns you."

Ilvana tried to keep her poise, a useless thought with her pulse under his fingers. "Then you must understand why I did _that_, also," Ilvana spoke, her gaze cast downward.

"I do," the elf admitted, "but can't condone it," his thumb gently brushed over her palm.

"Because I'm not immortal or skilled in fighting."

"Do I have to say it?"

"No-," she cut in hastily, hand drawing from his, missing the brief flash of strain on his face.

She felt miserly, but could not help it. In her very bones, Ilvana knew the reason, but could not hear it from him, nor look into his eyes as he spoke of it. Desire was one thing, but the full depth of his ... his affection, that she could not face. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Ilvana regained her spot farther away before speaking again. "And, I admit it was silly. You were right. I don't hold your words against you, no worries. Besides," her smile grew impish, "do you really think I'd ever do exactly as you say?"

The elf scoffed, smirking into the fire. He sighed. "No, I suppose I don't."

Sometime during the night, Ilvana opened her eyes, noticing the fire had turned into dying embers. Turning on her side her vision fell on the elf, sitting cross-legged, hands propped on his knees. His eyes were closed, but he seemed more alert than any time she had ever seen him.

"Hey..." the woman called softly.

When no reply came she turned away. She pressed her eyes tightly shut, willing the sudden flow of contradicting emotions to still._ You will never be one of them, no matter your choice. _If nothing else, it was a sobering thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Hantan tyen' = 'Thank you' (Quenya)


	21. Chapter 21

Asfaloth kept them to a swift pace, though not as harrying as the day before. They had broken their fast early with more of the same dried bread and berries Ilvana had tasted previously - which she found rather enjoyable if she was being honest. _Alright, so they make good snacks. Plus, _she joked to herself, trying to keep the more pressing thoughts at bay. As the trees once again disappeared from her vision Ilvana thought of home. _Some time out on Earth _was the most recurring thought among the fluster of recent ones.

Ilvana also recalled with some unease how she'd asked Glorfindel about his injury that morning, only for him to tell her he had taken the bandage off and was in good condition to use his arm. So these guys were all fast healing superheroes. Cool. _Actually that _is _cool. Fewer things to worry about. But how does one live with immortality? Seeing so much change, while you stay the same._ She found these attempts at faux philosophy funny indeed, but then again there were myriads of unanswered questions.

_Could ask one of them after all._

"So what's your take on living forever?" Ilvana decided to out with it when their pace slowed.

"Just like that?" she heard the clipped question.

"Err, yeah, am I not supposed to ask about tha-" she followed honestly, only to be annoyed when she heard a short laugh. "Hey I was trying to be cautious and careful of your ways here!"

"As ever," the blond drawled ironically.

How could he be so infuriatingly roguish sometimes?_ I should threaten to snip his ears._

"Immortality just is," the elf answered either way. "And we don't exactly live forever, but continue to live in the world until its completion."

"Could you expand on that? Sounds... more or less the same as living forever to me."

"We are tied to the fate of this world. There is an end and a new beginning, and it all depends on what the One has in plan."

"Your version of God, I suppose?"

"Something like that," he smiled. "And, you might say there is a different unit of measure for everything. As an example, we observe time in longer timeframes... ones we call 'yéni', one of which is about 144 of your solar years, by elven reckoning."

Her surprise was great. It was not an easy concept to grasp. "That sounds... interesting but I admit I don't think I could ever relate to it."

"You would grow to feel it."

The idea took Ilvana back to her former life. She had known the long years of an elf, but what did that matter if she didn't remember? The woman decided to drop the subject.

"It's all relative," the elf added to her thoughts.

"You sound like a theorist from Earth."

"I do think Einstein would have loved it here, if only to study our governing laws."

She snorted in laughter. "So how many years have you been on Earth actually?"

She waited for him to mull over an answer. "Not counting the thousands spent crossing through other realms... I've come into yours three times. Let's say... about one hundred and fifty of your years in total?"

Ilvana was in shock. "It sounds so unbelievable. So what do you think of us? Do we totally suck?"

"Things have happened over there, not unlike the events here. I've seen much evil, misery and death in your world. Your evil is of a different kind, but it seeps through everything. In your wars I've seen the destruction of Morgoth. I've also seen compassion and progress. It's not all that different if one thinks about it."

She wanted to know more. Where he'd been exactly, what he'd seen, how he went by unnoticed with his never changing physical form. But then there was _that_ topic.

"I know all I do is drill you with questions but, can I ask-"

Ilvana realized they had stopped, and felt him dismount. "Taking a break?"

"This is as far as we go with Asfaloth. We are near."

She was glad for the news. Wasn't she? _We're going together after all. _Ilvana dismounted in turn and saw him stroke the steed's neck, whispering something soothingly in his own language.

_Sigh. Oh shut up, Day._

"We're just going to leave him here?"

"He knows his way back," the elf smiled, patting Asfaloth before urging him away. "Here are your things, we'll need to change at some point."

"Aye, m'lord," she joked as she took the small bag, earning a frown.

"Be wary of your surroundings," he urged as they moved forward. "So what did you want to ask earlier?"

"Oh, yeah. So you know," she made a gesture with her forefinger from her to him.

"Right."

"Were we always like this? You know what I mean. The way we interact."

Fin looked ahead as he seemed to delve into another time, half a smile on his face. "More or less."

"I knew it!"

"Well, some things never change. This is one of them. And I am glad for it, I'll admit."

"You _like_ me to annoy you? Why didn't you say so!"

She saw his smile widen as the elf looked to the ground, shook his head. "We always reached an agreement in the end. No matter what it was-" but then he stopped, and she felt his sudden grip on her arm. His eyes were focused, he appeared to be listening to something.

"What is it?"

"Ilva, listen. Something approaches. I want you to head that way," he showed her, "And keep running. You will go faster and faster and find yourself on the other side before you know it."

Fear coiled in her stomach. "What approaches? We're supposed to go together not-" then her blood froze when she heard it. The same, vague sounds of windows cracking and an eerie sense of being hunted, accompanied by faint screeching.

"No, you can't! Not alone, there's so many of them!" she grabbed his arm in turn.

"Ilva, have you learned nothing from the events of the other day?"

"I-"

"Listen to me and go! I'll distract them," and he nudged her forward.

_Ok, you're no match for those things, he has a point._ Still leaving him alone was not an option either. A powerful banshee-like scream took the woman out of her stupor and she stumbled forward.

_Not again. _She looked to Fin, saw him draw his sword.

"Go for Eru's sake! I'll join you, I will. As soon as I can!" the elf threw, even as she saw misty darkness gathering ahead amid the trees.

Fear and instinct took over. She turned and started to run, looking back once or twice to see if they'd come, if he was still there. _If anything happens to him I'll never forgive myself, fuck!_

_"Forgiveness... Oh Ilvanya, that matters little, when power is the reward."_

"Who's there!?" Ilva stumbled in her steps.

_"Oh, surely you jest. We've known each other for a while now."_

"S-Sauron?" Ilvana whispered as she ran, a new kind of fright taking hold.

_"Not the name I prefer, but I see he's done his part in telling you. How do you like your husband, then?"_

"Get out of my head, you fucking liar!"

A shadowed grin. "_You__ wound me. I told no lies."_

"But left out the most important-" _Why am I humoring him? It? Focus, Ilvana__!_

_"Yes, focus Ilvanya..." _the voice trailed away in a hollow snicker.

She heard the sounds of the shadow riders, desperate and menacing, and fear gripped her insides when thinking about the elf. In her run and dazed from the sudden interference in her thoughts, Ilvana barely realized when she crashed into something. Looking up, she saw a white robe and black eyes.

_Oh crap._ "Mr. Sar?..." Ron's associate. Her mind told her that could mean nothing good. What was _he_ now?

"Greetings, Ilvanya," the low voice came and before she could scramble away a bruising grip was on her arm.

"Let. Go!" she gritted but he took her by the chin, those black fathoms boring into her. "Come, and obey."

Something latched onto her head, her limbs. They moved of their own accord, and any other thoughts dispersed from her mind like birds in the storm. Save for the one. To follow. And she did.

"Ilvana!" she heard a familiar voice call to her, a desperate tint to it. Shaking her head, she turned around to see the elf running at a standstill before them, sword in hand. A strange light was about him, similar to the one she'd witnessed before.

"Curumo...?" the elf wondered in swift surprise as he slowly approached, eyeing the one calling himself Sar in her world.

"Lord Laurefindil, well met," the old man uttered, nothing but civility lacing his voice.

"What is this?" the elf demanded, his voice colder than the Grinding Ice afore time. He looked to the woman, seeing the glaze over her eyes. His grip tightened on his sword.

"I have been walking in these woods for quite a while now. And I have found something to retrieve," he smiled, taking the dazed Ilvana by the shoulders.

"Is this what you've become? You are yet the head of the White Council. Whatever Sauron promised will not come to be. Release the woman, Saruman."

The wizard only sneered, and with a swift motion of his arm, an invisible wave struck and threw the elf off his balance, sending him crashing hard against a tree. He nimbly jumped back to his feet.

Ilvana tried to shake out of her torpor but it was all consuming. She looked on, trapped in her own body, as the one called Curumo tried to subdue the elf.

"You will release her," Glorfindel repeated darkly, circling the wizard and evading another swipe of his arm. "Else not all the powers you possess will hinder me, and you know my threats are never idle."

"Oh but you misconstrue me. I am not here for her alone," Saruman sneered, his grip still strong on Ilva. As he spoke he made a sweeping motion with his arm.

Glorfindel watched wide-eyed as a powerful surge of energy from the wizard's fingers had caused a rift. _No._

"Let's see how much you truly care for her safety," the wizard added rather bored and with one swift move took the bewildered and dazed Ilvana, and threw her into the rift. He looked on pleased as the very next moment the elf was running towards them and through the portal.

They were falling. Somehow he'd found her hand, held on tight. They were falling and falling forever it seemed, until the hard ground rushed to meet them and they crashed heavily onto a cold floor.

The blond found his bearings quickly, noticing the complete and utter darkness enveloping all. He checked the woman's pulse. Barely there. The bastard had used his mind control abilities on her.

"Á cuita, Ilvanya," he whispered, caressing her hair and face until he felt her hands reach for him.

"Where..." she asked confusedly, and he sensed her tensing when Ilva saw the darkness surrounding them.

"I, do not know," the elf spoke softly, feeling more despondent than he could remember. They had been so close, and he had failed.

They righted themselves, checking that nothing was broken. Ilva could barely make out any details even with her eyes become accustomed to the darkness.

_"Ah, our guests have arrived," _the same voice from before boomed into their minds.

"No-" she turned and leaned into the elf, pulse quickening. "What do you want!"

_"Must I answer that, Ilvanya?"_

"Show yourself, Shadow!" Glorfindel called.

Laughter boomed in their minds. _"Later. For now, enjoy our hospitality, Firstborn."_

_The hell is he talking about. _Then the woman turned around, and her eyes fell on the widest, most immense pillared halls she had ever seen in all her life.

_"Welcome, dear guests," _Sauron followed silkily. _"__Welcome to Moria."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Á cuita' = 'Awaken' (Quenya)


	22. Chapter 22

The voice ceased its taunting, leaving the two companions alone and striving to find their way in the gloom. The silence was pressing, as was the restless thrum in her ears. Ilva frantically tried smothering the main fears now gripping her conscious mind.

_We're going to die here._

_I let _ _myself get captured. And now, he's trapped here too._

_No food, no water, no light. Just us._

_And Sauron._

_We're going to die here._

Ilvana shook her head, stumbling in the dark as she followed the elf, ever forward through this new, terrifying nothingness. Her hand was grasping his arm so tightly Ilvana felt guilty for the bruises she was surely causing. "What is this place?" she asked aloud, before feeling his hand gently but swiftly clamp over her mouth.

"Stay silent, for now," the elf whispered so lowly she barely heard.

Ilvana shuddered at the thought of what else could be lurking beyond these seemingly forgotten recesses.

Glorfindel led them forward through wide cavernous spaces and Ilva could feel a deathly cold seeping through her clothes. Looking left and right, she could barely discern shapes hewn into stone. The craftsmanship was undeniably masterful, unique. Perfect angles to everything, rock smoothed to mirror-like quality. They reached a corridor and walked for yet some time until he brought them to a halt, looking to his left.

"There is a chamber," Glorfindel whispered. "Stay here."

Reluctantly, Ilvana released his arm, watching him carefully approach to inspect the space. She nearly bolted when she felt his hand on her arm again.

The elf urged them inside where it was just as dark, but Ilvana still discerned remnants of various origins, furniture included. She was hedged forward a little more before they stopped, and she finally fell into a tired heap on the floor. "Can we speak now?"

"Cautiously."

"Where are we?" she grumbled, her forehead propped against her drawn knees.

"Once, this was a great underground kingdom of the dwarven folk. Casarrondo it was called, in our tongue." He looked about the place, inspecting the walls. "A grand array of structures, mines, and dwellings, it was a testament to the might and skill of Durin's folk."

"Durin's folk?" her muffled question came. _I've heard everything else today._

"The one who founded this settlement in very ancient days. Eventually, it was expanded into levels and deeps. But now you see it has fallen and appears to have never been reclaimed." Ilvana sensed the dread and regret in his words. "And unless my ears deceive me, we are not alone."

Another sliver of panic surged through her. _We're going to..._ but Ilvana forced the thought down, focusing on information instead. "What do you think S-, ... the asshole wants to do to us here?"

"You already know what he wants. _You,_ for his use."

"But why here? He could have spirited me away somewhere else, couldn't he? Why bring you into this?..."

Glorfindel smiled bitterly, but luckily she could not see it. "The Shadow never does anything without a purpose. He exploits your greatest weakness. He wished for me to follow. I don't know why he plays this game Ilva, I wish I did. But he will have a hard time getting to you. I vow it."

The sheer conviction and ominous tone of those last words sent shivers down her spine. _He shouldn't be trapped here. _"I feel like the right kind of dumbass. That Sar character or whatever his name is, just ensnared me like I was a stray pup, and now we're-"

"Not your fault. The wizard has the ability to bend most minds to his will. You were easy prey," Glorfindel finished darkly.

_Mind control. Loving this world so far. _"So, they're allies," Ilvana added thoughtfully.

"Not as far as we knew. It seems he has betrayed his purpose. Unfortunately, we might not-" he stopped speaking.

"What do you hear?" Ilvana asked, her voice high with unease.

"Steps. Not many. Remain silent."

Ilvana listened, but try as she might there were no discernible sounds she could hear. Some time had passed before she saw a faint light to the entrance of the chamber. And then she heard the growls. _Wonderful. _She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

Whatever they were, they were coming nearer. The light grew steadily until a familiar firelit glow filled the corridor.

"Do you have your weapon?"

"I do," she whispered, her grip strong on the hilt of the dagger. Ilvana was glad for having the presence of mind to retrieve her weapon following the attack in the woods, yet coated in dry warg blood.

"Keep it close, but don't attempt anything, and stay hidden."

The woman saw his outline heading towards the entrance, sword in hand. What Ilva thought were growls before now seemed to have a cadence and intonation, and the closer they came, she realized it must be some sort of speech. It was grating to the ears, and Ilva stood as still as death while the elf waited.

Those approaching were now just about to pass by the entrance to the chamber-

It all unfolded at lightning speed. She heard a few grunts and gurgles, then nothing. The next image was of the elf coming towards her with a lit torch the intruders had been carrying.

"Hold this," and when she quickly complied he turned and dragged what looked like two bodies into the chamber. Her lip quivered in disgust as the familiar scent of rotting carcass filled her senses. Slowly Ilvana approached, looked them over. More of those orc characters. She had to admit they looked truly and utterly revolting to the eye. Smelled just as bad. They were broad bodied, sallow-skinned, with gangly limbs. Fangs protruded from their still maws.

_Dead. They're also very... dead._

"They would have shown no mercy," Fin added as if guessing her thought, taking the still-burning torch from her. He went to light another beacon in the wall. "Now I trust you see, why we need to stay quiet. I knew Sauron must have directed his colonies of creatures here, and this place is immense. We have to be cautious and we're not to linger too long in any one location."

_You mean _ _I_ _ must be cautious, since you seem to have no problem dispatching these buggers._

Ilvana nodded in response either way. The faint light of the lonely flame now brushed their figures and surroundings. All were covered in dust or broken in and she stumbled once or twice over clusters where parts of the ceiling had caved. The room boasted different items of ruined furniture. High shelves lined one of the walls, stacked with jars, vials, and bottles of different shapes and sizes. Their contents ranged from dried herbs to powders.

She saw various metal receptacles piled into one corner.

"This might have been an apothecary's dwelling," the elf said as he inspected the chamber, searching for something.

_Some liquids would be good right about now._

"Fin?"

"Yes?" he turned to face her.

"What are we going to do?" _Don't break down in front of him Day, don't you dare._

The elf placed the torch into an empty holder in the wall and came to face her, hands lightly on her shoulders.

"We find a way out. We scour these chambers, try to find a map or location indicator of any sort; if not, we follow where the gusts of air run cleaner. There are various levels to this place, and I do not know which one we are in. But I _will_ get you out of here."

The conviction he spoke with nearly broke through her hopelessness. Nearly, but not quite. She looked into those eyes, those clear mesmerizing beams. For once, they did not unsettle her.

"You do not believe me," his voice came, a disappointed tint to it.

"I only..." she wavered but a moment, "I _am_ completely aware of how lost we are. And how a way out seems... improbable right now," Ilvana steeled herself to say. Voicing it helped keep the desperation somewhat at bay. _I should have been home by now. On that turning ball of dirt. And he should have been safe. _She found solace in a new, brimming resentment for the one called Sauron. "And you shouldn't have-" she paused. "You shouldn't have followed here."

His features darkened. Ilvana kicked herself mentally for how inconsiderate her words must sound.

"Do you truly think so little of me?" the golden elf frowned looking truly confused, hands sliding down from her shoulders.

"God, no! Just-" she sighed. _I deeply care for you, and don't want you to possibly live in eternal enslavement?_

"With all that you know now, do you think I could abandon you to whatever fate our greatest foe would set for you?"

"Fin, it's not that,"_ I didn't ask for this. _"I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I..." she placed her hands on him, gently tracing circular motions over his chest as if trying to soothe a hurt she would cause.

"You, what?" the elf hedged, but she could not meet his eyes.

Ilvana sighed. _Just say it._ "I didn't ask for it. Any of this. For you to come looking for me, to find me, to tell me all of this and claim I've had a past life at your side. It was too much, it still is too much."

There was no outward sign of emotion on his face, save for a muscle tensing in his jaw. He took a hold of her hands to stop their movements, his fingers light on her wrists. "You have your choice, Ilva. As I had mine. If I were granted a second chance," the elf pulled her hands away, "I would have taken the same path."

The young woman swallowed. She felt fingers under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his.

"Ilva, I would never ask for anything not freely given. Least of all your heart. I know it is all new, and strange, and frightful to you. And I am saddened that it all went the way it did. Right now, we must focus on getting you out of here."

She drew away. "You mean getting_ us _out of here."

At his silence, she felt a strange knot in the pit of her stomach. "Let's just keep going," Ilvana turned from him, crossing her arms.

The elf said no more as they carefully exited the space and continued through the corridor. They scoured through whatever other rooms they found, looking for anything of use. Glorfindel had his senses attuned to perceive any sound within range, leading them carefully through the dark. The torch still functioned but would have to be replaced soon.

After what seemed like hours, they were still walking. Ilva felt strong fatigue take hold. _Must be about nighttime. That's the deal with caves. You lose track of time without the sun. The sun..._

"Ilva," she barely heard him call her name over the faint white noise in her ears.

Then she was alone, somewhere surrounded by shimmering lights. The background of a windless night sky draped with flickers of life. She looked to her right and saw endless circles spinning into forever.

_"Where... am I..."_

Turning, Ilvana saw a figure of indescribable grace and splendor. Her hair was the sky, her face carried the glow of a silver moon.

_"Tullen aþien tye, Carnifinde."_

_"What...who are you?..."_

_"I am here to aid you,"_ the words obtained meaning in her mind, and there was nothing but strength exuding from their vibrancy.

A hand was on her face. Ilvana opened her eyes and noticed she was placed against a wall. Focusing, she saw it was another chamber. Then her eyes met crystal ones reflecting the weak flame of a torch placed above.

"Hey Blondie,- oh, sorry," then trying to recall faded details of a dream, she squeezed her eyes shut. "Yeah you got me, I call you that sometimes. I figure giving the scale of our current situation, you won't be too upset about this."

"How are you feeling?" he ignored her rambling.

"Adequate, I guess?"

"You lost consciousness as we walked." He turned and sat down next to her, back against the wall. She welcomed the arm he placed around her shoulders. "This place is hard to live through. I know we must get you at least some form of liquid soon. I don't know if anything like food is possible. There are streams here, but I doubt the quality of the water."

"Tell me about heaven," she suddenly spoke.

The elf looked at her profile, questioning.

"You spoke of... Vali-nor?"

"Ah yes," his vision strayed downward. "The dwelling of our Guardians. What do you want to know?"

"Anything," she said quietly. His warmth was soothing and Ilva nestled closer, feeling a new form of relief. Her head came to rest against his shoulder.

"They had once welcomed all of us Firstborn to dwell there in safety. Some made it, some had not. This led to further division of our race into other kindreds. Some have seen the light of the Trees, and others had not."

"_The Trees_?"

Glorfindel smiled fondly in memory. "A strange concept to your mind, I imagine. Think of them as sources of light. Silver Telperion and golden Laurelin preceded our Moon and Sun." He sighed. "But as with many things in existence, there came an end to them."

"Did you see their light?" Ilva asked curiously, the piece of foreign history lesson having captured her weary attention.

"I was born in Valinor."

"You're kidding," she raised an eyebrow.

"I am not. It was peaceful. And quiet. The Trees shone through the eyes of everyone. But it still was not what you would call dull. Everything vibrated within, we were somehow attuned to all there was. You felt life brimming at its peak."

"Sounds like being on some very strong psychedelics," Ilvana offered wryly. She heard a short lilt of laughter and smiled.

"About many, many times over, I would say."

"Hm... and why'd you... leave?" her lashes became heavier.

There was a short silence. "That is the beginning of a dark time in our history. Many mistakes were made and evil prevailed, for a while. We left at summons to resolve a conflict of great consequence. I might tell you about it another time."

"I guess it involves we-know-who and his boss," Ilva somehow drew even closer into the elf, felt his arm tighten around her.

"Indeed."

"As you said, some things ...never change," she whispered.

"Mára este, Ilvanya."

"Mára este," she replied without thought before her eyes closed and the young woman strayed into long-overdue sleep.

Shadowed in the haggard light of the weak torch, one might have seen his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Mára este' = 'Rest well' (Quenya)


	23. Chapter 23

Waking from a dreamless slumber, Ilvana found she felt surprisingly warm. Having fallen asleep onto the cold floor propped against the elf, she expected her body to be sore and stiff. But as she opened her eyes to gloom yet again, she felt her side pressed against something warm. Her head rested against a steady, comforting heartbeat. An arm was around her waist, and a hand was loosely draped over her thigh.

"Hello...," she told the darkness.

"Managed to sleep? I thought the floor might be too cold for you," Glorfindel offered in that impassive manner of his, which she had come to know hid something else.

Ilvana couldn't help a smile. "Better than expected... thank you," she replied, understanding he had somehow pulled her sideways into his lap while she rested. At any other time, the woman might have felt embarrassed or tried to ineptly move away. But what did it matter now? They were here, they were lost. His heartbeat ran as her own. The warmth of him flowed into her. Despite the hopelessness of their situation, all the brimming and no less worrying responses to his closeness were still strong. _I could... stay like this forever._

_Enough,_ her better sense hit._ We might kick the bucket here. Not the best of times to be daydreaming. _Grudgingly she lifted her head and slowly slid out of his hold. "I guess it's top of the morning in Moria. What's for breakfast?" the woman said drily as she rose to stretch.

The torch had long since been extinguished and it left them trying to find their way in the blackness again for a time. She was being tortured by a new enemy. Thirst. _Damn, I'd even lick these walls if there was but a hint of moisture. Isn't it supposed to be humid underground?_ It wasn't. The air was dry and dusty in every hall, every corridor and chamber they had passed through.

They walked on in silence, though for how long, she hadn't the slightest idea. It was cold again, her cloak offering meager protection against the chill as they traversed through yet another high arched passage. From there they advanced into another corridor.

"Here," the elf spoke at one point, and she felt him turn to their right. Drawing closer, she discerned an entrance with two strong wooden doors, left ajar. She reached for them, and her fingers felt several engravings.

"What do you see?" she asked the elf, whose vision could discern what she could not.

"Dwarvish runes. My knowledge of the language is not extensive, but above these doors reads... 'Records'."

He entered first and Ilvana followed, scrunching her nose at the sudden smell of decay wafting from within. The pair noticed a small shaft on the eastern side of the ceiling. Light speared through the obscure chamber, illuminating a large rectangular stone structure. The walls had many recesses cut into them and were laden with what looked like small chests.

"Light! I can't believe it!" the woman wondered, her hopes kindled as she hurried to see the small patch of clear sky visible through the shaft. She swiftly approached before stumbling over something sharp and clanking. Whatever it was cracked under her feet, and looking down she yelped in horror.

"Ilvana!" the blond called harshly at the loud sound, turning to face her.

She looked on speechless, shivering as the elf came to her side. She started retreating against the wall. "B-bodies-"

Glorfindel scanned their surroundings, noticing what had caused her fright.

"They're... everywhere-" Ilvana felt hands on her.

"Yes, something foul happened here. I told you this place was taken by the enemy. These are remains of those fallen in battle. You need not fear the dead." Seeing as she was still shivering, he placed a hand over her head. "Focus, Ilva. We must focus. Will you help me search?"

Ilvana heard his words in a dream, a sliver of light calming the rush of choking fear in her chest, her stomach.

"Yes," she whispered as the elf withdrew his hold. "Focus," she repeated, leaning forward from the wall and studiously avoiding to look at the ground, strewn with abandoned weapons and bodies in various states of decomposition.

She approached the structure bathed in light and saw more etchings, the same unfamiliar symbols she had felt on the doors. They were carved into the white stone laid above.

"What is this?" she asked when the elf stood beside her.

He frowned, regretful eyes looking over the symbols. "A tomb."

Ilvana staggered backward. "Why-"

"Ilva, remember to focus, and our goal."

"Yes, alright, sure," she took a deep steadying breath, willing to tear her eyes away but being unable to. "I'll search this wall." She took a ladder that seemed strong enough and climbing brought various chests down, one by one.

They scoured through various dusty and crumbling manuscripts for what seemed like an eternity, spreading them over the lit portion of the tomb.

"I found something!" the woman exclaimed, coughing from the rising dust. It was a leather scroll, yellowed with time. They both splayed it open and hovered over the document under the beam of light. The engravings were faded but its purpose was unmistakable.

"West-gate... this is it, exactly what we need!" the elf exclaimed, one arm wrapping around her shoulders in an encouraging grip. "Look, here it says _Chamber of Records_. Sixth level. This is our location."

Ilvana breathed a sigh of relief, listening raptly.

"And here is the route we need to take to reach an exit. The East-gate, that is our destination," the elf followed and Ilvana could feel a similar relief coloring his voice.

"We're getting out of here!" she chimed hopefully, unable to believe it yet.

The blond rolled the map and placed it under his belt. "But we must be just as wary as before, there is no telling what the dark one or his minions are wont to do."

The pair exited the chamber through the second entrance as shown on the map. It led them to another long, high-pillared hall.

"This place must have been beautiful once," Ilvana couldn't help but say.

"It was. Through its sheer size and complexity, it remains one of the wonders of our world," he hushed back.

_"Then why leave?" _a voice suddenly boomed in both their minds, making them stop short.

She felt the elf draw his sword while at the same time pushing her behind him.

"Come forth, you coward!"

_"Careful what you wish for. Isn't that so, Ilvanya?" _Sauron added smoothly.

_Don't reply. Don't talk to it, don't acknowledge it._

_"You'll soon find that quite impossible to achieve, Ilvanya."_

"Keep moving," the elf hedged as they started to run towards their set path.

A bout of laughter grated over their minds. They were just about to pass through the hall when suddenly Ilvana's eyes were blinded by a myriad of torches. Fanged faces loomed in the corners, spread across their way before their goal. Ilvana noticed the cavernous walls were laden with something moving in the shadows. Whatever they were, there was too many of them.

_Shit. _"We're surrounded!" she gritted as they stopped, drawing closer into one another.

_"You have done well, I must say. Better than expected. We have been waiting eagerly to be honored by your presence."_

_We?_

Sauron went on, his shrilling metallic words draped with sarcastic cruelty.

_"Let us see if you remember your prowess, Noldo."_

Then they heard a swift deafening sound. A sound which Ilvana had never heard before, but recognized.

_"I offer you a journey through memory. Consider it a wedding gift," _the voice hissed in their minds.

"Fin? What-" she looked to the elf, whose eyes widened in understanding at the thunderous cadence drawing nearer. For the first time since she had ever known him, he appeared utterly lost and hapless.

"Valar-" he choked, the meaning sinking in.

"Talk to me, elf!" she shook him, seeing his gaze set somewhere far.

Glorfindel turned sharply to her. "Hear me well. You must try and escape."

"Wh-, absolutely not!"

"Listen to me. This is-," his words were severed by another deafening hiss which resounded through the great halls, so powerfully the ground shook beneath their feet. "You must keep a straight line, to the bridge, the others have fled, they fear-"

"Oh no. We're not doing this again! Not like this, it's what he wants!" the woman tried frantically, thrashing against him.

His grip on her shoulders was sudden and heavy. "Ilva, if one of us is to come out of this unscathed, I would rather it be you."

"See how well that worked out last time?" Ilvana seethed, feeling angry and desperate all at once.

She was brought into a sudden embrace even as hated tears threatened to break her composure. "Please," she heard, his tone so foreign yet so familiar.

A roar froze her to the spot, then the high cavernous halls filled with sudden heat, waves blazing, and lapping at her skin.

_"He remembers, Noldo. He recalls very well indeed what you and your kind have done to his kin."_

Ilvana felt surging dizziness, past images of a similar nature coming to mind. She dared not look towards the end of the colossal corridor, dared not see-

Another bellowing growl had her jump out of her wits and her head swiveled to the side. She saw the high walls lit with red flame as fire and ash, her nightmares come to life filled the entrance to the halls.

"No!" she clung to him. "No-no-no! Not again, you can't!" Ilvana begged, her face muffled into his tunic.

"Ilva!" Glorfindel called harshly, making her snap out of it and meet his eyes. "Try to escape while I distract it. Head that way," he showed her, "towards the bridge, up the stairs to the Gate. You have the map." He pushed the scroll into her hands. He took her face in his palms. His words were harried. "Don't you ever stop. They... They will aid you to reach the crossing path. Remain on Earth. Once it closes and They seal the rift you'll be safe there."

This was not how it should be. "Then what was it all for?" the woman asked, swallowing stubborn, unwieldy sobs.

His eyes said more than she could take. The regret in his words slashed through her. "I saw you again."

"You can't, you can't!" She cried helplessly, uncaring of how wanton or irrational she might seem. Try though she did Ilvana couldn't release him, hands still caught in his clothes until the elf turned with them both, disentangling her from him roughly.

"Go now!" he said to her pleading face, cursing everything in his mind. "I will find you."

"Liar!" Panting, Ilvana pushed against him fiercely. Took a step back. Then another. She saw the demon approach; fiery hooves crushing stone, its black whip thundering.

"Run!" the elf cried angrily, his voice muffled by echoing roars, and with one last lingering look into those eyes, she turned from him, and fled.

But no sooner did the woman cross the bridge than she stopped. She whirled around, saw the elf standing there as she left him, deathly still, sword drawn and pointed downward. His head was bowed to the side, his eyes were closed. His other hand was clenched into a fist to his chest. He appeared to be murmuring.

Her eyes were then taken by the fell beast and the heat became unbearable as it drew ever closer. _Come on Blondie, come on love, what are you doing?_

Then she was stricken, as the appearance of the one Ilvana thought she knew began to change, seeming so very different; a strong, diffusing bright light enveloped him, exuding from his being which now glowed with nothing less than otherworldly might; unseen gusts of power rose, filtering through his hair and garments, sending golden strands astray. When he reopened his eyes Ilvana nearly faltered at the intensity of the beams shining through them. As he was, the elf turned on his heel and slowly yet determinedly paced towards the advancing foe.

_Whoever You are that he follows, don't let him come to harm. I beg you not to be cruel. Please. _She should run, do as he said, but her legs were of lead. The woman couldn't take her eyes off the creature, its hollow black fathoms for eyes, its charging flaming weapon, narrowly missing the elf as he nimbly evaded.

Gold and red joined in a deadly dance as fiery whip met shimmering blade, their wielders set against each other in strikes which echoed thunderously through the enclosure.

To her mind the elf seemed closest to a higher being of legend than anything, his agile leaps so powerful they could be mistaken for flight, the force of his blows meeting those of his opponent evenly. It appeared to only anger the creature further, who sought every chance to displace its foe. It growled, its reverb causing the ceiling of the halls to crumble, the heat now unbearable.

"Beautiful isn't it," a voice suddenly spoke behind her.

Startled, Ilvana whirled around, staring straight into great slitted pupils. It was the only feature she recognized him by. She froze at the sight, and her pulse was at war.

His copper hair was endless about his tall, towering figure, and shadows swirled at his feet.

His face. Gone were the features she had known. His features were skewed by black, flaming markings and twisted with the hatred of Ages. He was unrecognizable, from his clawed limbs to his bearing, to the dark chasm that was his mouth.

Ilva staggered back.

"Finally, you have come home!" the chasm opened in a smile.

"Stay away!" Ilvana demanded, her mind drawing a blank, her blood curdling at the sight of him.

The Shadow neared, a wide rictus on its face. "I've told you before, you and I have _purpose_ together. Join me, Ilvanya. You cannot deny we do get along," he added, and for one moment his face and voice changed back to his human form.

"I trusted you!" she quipped, choking on a potent mixture of betrayal, hatred, and disgust.

"And there were none more honored. Now, cease fiddling. Come to me," he commanded.

She balled her fists together, turned to look to where the elf was on the defensive. "On one condition. You call that thing off and leave him be!"

"You fool!" Sauron bellowed, chilling her within. "Do you think you have a choice? Look around. Among other things, I am your only way out of this place. The elf will be slain, by either the balrog's will or mine. Now come. And beware, you are useful to me even disembodied. Choosing death will not aid you in this."

"You're the biggest asshole _any_ world has ever seen," Ilvana trembled in anger.

"Compliments will get you nowhere," Sauron grinned. "Be the wiser," the Lord of Wolves insisted, hand upturned, awaiting hers. "Come, Carnifinde."

She turned to see Glorfindel again, still holding his own against the demon, their deadly dance having brought them to the middle of the narrow bridge. A great abyss awaited below, should any fall. The fires soaring from the beast were so near and enveloping, her cloak and hair were being scorched. The woman had to shield her face from the burning embers flying through the air.

The shadowed words floated on the canvas of her mind.

_The only way out of here._

Then the details of a recent dream filled her mind, and she recalled a silver moon. She saw endless grace. Ilvana indeed recalled light, the heights of redeeming strength. She threw a Sauron a sharp glance. Gritted her teeth. Then a smile cut her face, completely at odds with the feeling inside.

_The only way out of here._

She looked him in those burning orbs, eyes sundered by the thirst for dominion, power, and greed. "You'll _never_ win," she hissed, and with that, bolted away with the greatest speed she was capable of. Heard him howling her name, felt the shadows reaching for her but she did not stop.

Ilvana ran straight ahead, gaining speed, to where the elf was battling the demon, having just been swept off his feet by a slithering strike.

Her voice came from another time, another Age. A different circle of existence.

_Oh, great Kindler._

_Aid us._

There was no response, but she pushed forward. She was almost there.

_He deserves better than this._

Glorfindel had risen to his feet before feeling something hard strike into his side, only to find Ilvana, hazel eyes staring wide into his as she gripped his shoulders, the momentum sending them both flying. Auburn and gold mingled together. Ages passed with the motion of their bodies, swerving past the powerful strike of the balrog over the bridge, and into the abyss.

_Please._

They were falling again.

Then, through the void, there came an answer.


	24. Chapter 24

Asynchronous chirping filled her ears. Her brow crinkled at the beams of light pushing their way past her eyelids. Opening her eyes, Ilvana was met with an unexpected sight. The view of a blue sky overhead.

"Ilva," someone hedged and she turned her head sluggishly, her vision focusing on the very image of relief. "Ilvanya, are you well?" Glorfindel hastened amid his panting, the strain of battle still visible on his bearing, and felt in the tautness of his limbs.

Ilvana only nodded, still unable to believe it.

"It seems you... crossed over, again? We both did...somewhere..." His breathless astonishment made him appear all the younger and lost.

Ilvana lifted her head blearily, loosened her death grip on his shoulders, and looked to their surroundings. Her eyes fell on plain green spaces and streetlights. No darkness. No demons. They were safe. Not dead. They were safe and _he_ was alive, here, with her.

She had not the slightest idea how to thank, and who to thank. Ilvana tried reaching the nether with her thought, as before, thinking of a silver moon and stars for eyes.

She was ever grateful, wishing she could tell Them.

Warm light akin to a velvet touch brimmed in response.

_All is in place again._

"How did you- " his tone was full of wonder as the elf trailed off, whatever he was feeling barring his unspoken words. "You brave, beautiful, silly child-" Glorfindel crushed her to him.

Unrestrained Ilvana threw her arms around his neck, receiving an instant response as she was drawn into a warm embrace. Ilvana felt that same light still aglow faintly within him, flowing through his being, his clothes; reaching for her. She nearly crumbled as they stood so, alone together, silently feeling for injuries and broken bones.

Once they both had regained some of their composure and leveled breathing, they looked at each other again.

"I asked Them... for help," she admitted.

The elf was staring at her bewildered before a knowing smile lit his face. "So you did. And They listened. And aided your passage through. Still, that was the riskiest, most hot-headed,-"

"Riskier than confronting an ancient freaking demon with nothing but a sword and fabulous hair?"

At that, his mouth pressed shut, and the elf appeared to lack a worthy enough comeback. But his smile never faded.

"It was the last I would ever have believed, deities actually helping, huh? But," she sighed, "I had nothing else. To be honest, I think they like you way more than they do me," she rambled, the post-stress reaction strong and pressing.

The look in his eyes stilled her; that pull Ilvana had always felt towards him overwhelmed her then, and for delight and relief, she couldn't keep from leaning closer, tilting her head-

"Hmmph, now I've seen everything," an old man muttered as he passed them by with his bags of scavenged goods, seeing them strung as they were onto the grass. The pair regarded each other, eyes straying to their clothes and appearance before bursting into unexpected, unbridled laughter.

"Welcome back to New York," the woman drawled when they could breathe again.

"I'm starting to miss Moria already," Fin said dryly, wringing a short laugh from her. This, despite the knowledge that the experience would scarcely be forgotten, and deep within the recesses of her inner self, she knew the darkness of Moria would haunt her dreams for a long, long time.

* * *

As they were Ilvana recalled with a sigh that throughout her whole uncalled for adventure she'd lost her bag, keys, and phone. And she had been so weakened from their ordeal, the lack of light, water, and nourishment, that Fin had to carry her all the way back to his apartment. After drinking her fill, slowly as instructed, and a quick much-needed shower and change of clothes - one of his T-shirts acting as an obliging nightgown - she fell into a deep sleep. There were dreams of both horror and bliss, and every time her mind went ahead of her the young woman felt a steady hand on her forehead, hedging her back to the tranquility of rest.

When she awoke the place was quiet. Nothing stirred, and for a moment Ilvana feared she was alone. Since their unwilling venture in the deeps, her mind was ever on the alert and she felt a strong need for reassurance that they were close, that they were safe. She shot upright from the bed. "Blondie?" the woman called, her voice raspy with disuse.

Her heartbeat slowed when she saw a golden head of hair come into view.

"Is everything alright?" the blond asked as he drew nearer to sit by her side. Ilvana smiled at the sight of him in jeans and a T-shirt, so anticlimactic considering what she had seen of him.

Ilvana threw her arms around him in a bear hug, being met with no less fervor. It was hard to move, very hard indeed to untangle herself from him.

"I still can't believe we're back here, and alive to boot," she whispered into his hair. She felt gentle sweeping motions along her back.

"Fuck!" Ilvana suddenly jumped, staring wide-eyed into nothing. "Myr! I have to call her, to let her know I'm safe. And my cat, oh Nox!" she drew back from him, hastily turning left and right before she was handed a phone.

"Thank you," Ilvana said gratefully to his smiling eyes. "Come on, come on..." the phone rang for a while.

"Myra Eled."

"Myr!"

"Ilva? Where the hell have you been? No reply from you for a week now, I was so damn worried! What pray tell is going on? I went to your workplace, it's fucking deserted-"

"Myra slow down, I'm fine-,"

"And when you wouldn't answer your phone I took the spare keys to your apartment and let myself in. Empty! Do you have any idea-"

"Is Nox well?"

"Of course she is. She's been with me ever since."

"Oh Myr, I can't express how relieved I am..." she closed her eyes.

The voice on the other end softened. "Right back at you. You have a whole lot of explaining to do, Witch."

Ilvana hesitated. "Yeah. Hey, let's meet up later. Right now I'm... I'm still more or less out of it."

The conversation carried on a little longer, a heavy sigh marking the motion of hanging up the phone.

"I have no idea what to tell her," Ilva whispered to herself. She then found she missed the comfort of him, and turning to Fin she noticed him lost in thoughts of his own. She looked him over. No bruises, no wounds. He didn't appear even the slightest bit worse for wear and it brought her a type of never before felt relief.

Memories of recent happenings flooded her then, and that pesky pulse started to run. Blazing amber eyes burned into her mind. "Do you think _he_... "

"The rift he tore through to your world is now sealed. There should be no other way back here for him, save for the path which is soon to close and is guarded by Them."

The second the words left his mouth she saw it on his face. The process of remembering something which disheartened him; his brow furrowed in thought, his features usually so guarded laid bare. The elf met her eyes briefly in a smile before his vision strayed downward. "You're safe here now-"

"Not without you," the words escaped her, and for once Ilvana was glad they did.

She saw his expression change from shock to worry all under one second.

_Come on, do it Day. _"It took falling to our deaths to realize it but..." her hands reached, tentative through his hair. "There's no one else I would rather banter and argue with for all eternity," she smiled unsteadily. "And yes, I know, there is much for me to learn of your ways and the goings of your...world," Ilvana added quickly, "but I'm more than willing, so that has to count for something. Right?"

The elf only stared at her, features unreadable. "That was not the end of it. If you return to Arda you may never be fully safe from him, not until he is dispatched with," though the way his eyes then closed at her touch made his words seem less like a warning, and more like an afterthought.

A dreadful shiver ran through her at the notion. She steeled herself. "But I would have you. I can take it. I want to try."

His face unusually somber, the golden-haired elf drew her to him. Their eyes met and held. His were alight, searching meaning in hers. "Then..." his words drifted, and Ilva wondered if he was aware of how tight his grip on her had become.

_Beautiful. His eyes are beautiful, _she looked dazedly into bright, clear beams. The sheer denial she had been in all those times hit her then, when Ilvana had thought his gaze so utterly strange and unnerving. _You were afraid._ Afraid of this brilliance, this ethereal influence so freely offering itself as hers. She was unworthy, she must be. And yet, when they were falling through the void of the abyss, frozen and grasping each other, Ilvana felt them mesh together. Even now her chest bore the remaining flickers of the strong light meeting her own, completing her. And it had brought them Their aid.

"Glorfindel of Gondolin," Ilvana dared a smile, aflame as she said the words she needed him to hear, "Be with me."

Everything changed. Everything and nothing. There was no use denying what they shared, nor the need to always be close, and to them, it felt stronger than what either had known before.

"Also, I should put some pants on," the young woman followed. _Let's not get _too_ solemn here._

Lilting laughter filled her ears. He brought her forehead to his.

"Does this mean you're mine?" she followed lightly.

His eyes were shaded now, his lips curling in a mild smile as Glorfindel brought her to him. "I always have been."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye be warned, 🍋 🍋 🍋 up ahead.

Ilvana frowned in thought, sipping wine on her apartment terrace as she took in the evening cityscape. The day had been spent packing, parsing and otherwise arranging things into boxes to be sold, returned, or given away as she prepared to cut her dealings with this world. The woman had already met with the landlord and discussed the terms of leaving her apartment.

Ilva could still scarcely believe she'd never see Earth again. And there were still so many things to be done. She had to properly talk things over with Myra, for one. The wishy-washy justification Ilva had given her friend the other day for her going off the grid would not work for a lifetime. Few people would wonder, but Myra was one of those who deserved at least part of a worthy explanation. _What to tell her? What parts to leave out, what to share?_ Then a brief image of darkened depths and slitted pupils swam into vision. Ilva shook her head to brush its flames away. _Certainly not that._ _And one day I'll also be free of it._

She felt his arms around her waist. "All in due time," Fin said.

"How the heck do you-... Nevermind." It mattered little _how_ he knew, at this point. "So much to consider, to wrap up..." she mellowed against him.

Fin hummed. "And, I say this not to burden you further, but know that you'll have no easier time of it over there. At first. I don't... exactly know what to expect, either. And the change is irreversible, Ilvanya."

She sighed. "I know. But hey, I'd end up a dashing creature such as yourself," her eyebrows jiggled in teasing, "...maybe without the attitude though. Besides, you'll be there to help, and we're married now. So you're pretty much done- no more balrogs, patrols, dangerous quests, and whatnot..." Ilvana counted facetiously.

She felt his grin against her cheek before the elf drew away, heading back inside. He returned with a glass of whiskey, propped himself against the opening to the terrace.

_Oh, there's that asshole smirk. You're up to something, which will either annoy or delight me. Or both._

Ilvana joined him until they faced each other, her smirk mirroring his.

"Technically, we're not married," Fin said with that same knowing look in his eyes that made her wonder, "Yet."

Ilvana crossed her arms. "Alright, I gotta hear this. Do I need to sit down?" An unnamed feeling surged through her as she said this. Ilvana languidly paced back, facing him, the look in her eyes glazed and daring. She jumped atop the stone edge of the terrace with her back to the street, legs dangling lazily. She watched him follow.

"Marriage and its consummation," Glorfindel continued his explanation as he neared, "are one and the same, for our kind. In strained circumstances, even the ceremony is forfeit. It's the act of bodily union that 'seals the deal', as you would say," he added when reaching Ilva, placing his glass onto the edge before his palms came flat on either side of her. Fin leaned forward, even as she playfully tilted her upper body slightly away from him.

"You're not serious."

The grin disappeared, his vision set downward. When he looked her way again Ilvana felt a shiver. One she knew very well, one she had felt around him so many times before. _So that's why he was always so... reluctant. Well. _"You're serious. Oh, Fin-"

"You had no way of knowing, and I had no reason to tell you. Besides," his hand reached, unsteadily she thought, and Ilva keenly felt its warmth on her thigh, "it is worth waiting for."

_Oh yeah, you might just _ _be right there._

Silence fell between them.

"Do you remember when we met?" Fin asked, regaling her with a warm smile.

Ilva huffed. "You were a total ass."

She felt both his hands slide along her thighs then, slowly and deliberately; moving to her hips; reaching up to her waist as the elf effortlessly lifted her off the edge, placing her down on her own two feet before him.

"You told me your name," Glorfindel continued, bringing Ilvana to him gently until they were into somewhat of a slow dancing position.

"And you proceeded to ignore me," Ilva followed, arms lacing around his neck.

The elf sighed through his teeth, a wistful smile layering his face. "I was gutted. After nearly renouncing my search for you at the time, I wandered aimlessly, trusting Them to lead me. And then one night, unexpectedly there you were."

Ilvana recalled the very moment as if it were yesterday. His eyes, freezing her to the spot.

"When you crashed into me, my heart nearly stopped, and I thanked Them. But then, you looked so miserable, caught as you were in your present life, something I had no inkling about. I had absolutely no idea how to approach you, how to talk to you. Then when you came to me, brave little soul that you are, I wavered, forgetting any plans I might have had. You told me your name, and I couldn't help but say something to maybe get you thinking, but also to feed my own need, to somehow express how I felt."

"Oh, right," Ilva grinned as she was pulled even closer. "I said '_I'm Ilvana', _like any other sane person, and what I got was '_Yes you are'_."

"So you do remember."

_Oh no, those dimples again_. "Yeah, because I thought your wiring was fused then," Ilva quipped, a finger pointing to his head. They had begun swaying to the tune of a forgotten song in the background. Was it something by Pink Floyd? A pleasant breeze blew through her hair, sending curly strands dancing. He felt so good and warm against her, her body aching where they touched.

"I tried to tell you that you were perfect," the golden-haired elf purred. "Your name in our tongue, it means _perfect, unmarred_."

_There go my knees._

"I wanted you to know my meaning so much, but I wasn't allowed to interfere until you awoke to me," Fin explained sheepishly.

"And then you literally saved me," her hazel eyes shone with affection. "Can't abstain from being the hero, not even in a parallel plane of existence, can you?"

The elf crushed her to him, the sudden action surprising her. "I saw red. His saving grace was that my strength is significantly reduced outside of Arda. But that is good, as I don't think the sight of rolling heads at our first meeting would have endeared me to you too much."

_God, I want him. Say it, say it Day. I want you. I want you to do me all night, the dripping mess that I am. You're so hot the floor melts under your feet. Cure me of this ache, this storm of sensations when we touch. Please, you magnificent weirdo come straight out of a waking dream..._

"Will you just kiss me already?"

His brow furrowed in mock annoyance. "Oi, is that any way to speak to a high lord of the Eldar?"

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "High on your ego, maybe." And Ilva tilted her head to kiss him but the elf was faster to pull away.

He grinned, a desirous glint in his eyes. He took her chin between his fingers. "So impatient, this human form."

"You play dirty, my lord, for all your valiant deeds."

Sharp crystals narrowed on her, lips parted slightly. Ilvana felt a light, searing kiss on her forehead. _Come on Blondie, lose yourself with me, you're brave enough to do this. You want to do this._

Elegant hands slid to her neck, fingers trailing over the spot where her harried life pulse sang. _I'm going_ _to jump him. I swear. He'll be eligible to file a complaint._

But her plan ended abruptly, her thought snapped away when Ilvana felt the slow, blazing pressure of him on her lips. She all but clung to him, fingers grasping his black shirt, rising up on her toes just to feel more. She had longed for this, longed for_ him_, and now her heart raced, her body taut and screaming for completion. He tasted sweeter than her wildest dreams. _But this is not enough_. "More..." the young woman cooed against his lips.

"More?" Glorfindel smiled before his lips grazed hers, lifting her to him until her feet barely touched the ground anymore.

"Yesss..." she sighed, giving in to the havoc he was wreaking on her insides.

"Are you sure you want this now, Ilvanya?"

_Ever the knight_. "Don't you?" the woman lost in him rasped, her voice desperately hoarse.

She saw his pupils dilating, pushing the thinning ribbons of clear irises to the edge. His breathing already harried, lips parted slightly, all he had to do was-

"God...," Ilva whispered aloud without thought when he tasted her again, the pressure burning, needing to feel it everywhere.

"...has nothing to do with this," Fin grinned before melding his mouth to hers, sending all her senses askew.

Ilva felt his own pulse become erratic, and they were breathless against each other but too eager to care, and it all had her overflowing like streams after a deluge. "Fin..." she breathed his name, now utterly helpless._ Like putty. Very hot. Not._

He gently bit on her lip. "Say after me. Glor-fin-del."

"Glor...fin..del..." Ilvana obeyed, smiling as she drank him in.

A sunrise grin. "Good girl."

"I like it, very much," Ilva said through half-open lashes, drawn in by his eyes. "It's very... you. Glooorious!" she spread her arms out in the air playfully, trapped as she was in his embrace.

"I am glad, my Ilvanya," his fingers lightly ghosted her face. He brought his forehead to hers. "How I have missed this..." his voice was weak. "I have missed you... us."

It sounded different as he said this. And she also felt him differently. Graver, more imperious, but also somehow... reverent? _That flicker of his true self._

He then lifted Ilva in his arms, felt her legs circling around his hips like a vice. _I am__ never moving from here. Nope. You'll need specialized tools, maybe a taser._

Here he was. An immortal warrior of old in his own world. A slayer of countless enemies, sacrificed his own life for the greater good, was sent back into the world like some sort of painfully perfect Messiah, having traveled between multiple dimensions defying logic and physics and everything in between.

And his fingers trembled when he touched her. This one clearly surrendered to her, just as she did to him. Vulnerable for her, with her.

_I'm done for. I love him. I love him so much it hurts even thinking about being separated from him. Goodbye sense_, _farewell reason._

He led them to her bed, where they clumsily and happily draped themselves over each other, flushed grins and all. Ilvana felt the grasp on her hair, his other hand now firmly on her hip, causing her to nearly lose it from the sheer pressure of it on her skin.

_Yes touch me, please-please __touch me-_...

Ilvana was surprised at such deftness from one not having done this in a while, and her dress soon landed into a heap somewhere on the floor. She then felt warm fingers tangling in the straps of her lingerie. He left her as naked as the day she was born, and Ilvana saw his gaze bearing a hungry sort of pride.

"Devious for an immortal being of light, aren't we," Ilva arched playfully into his clothed form. She yelped, suddenly being lifted and drawn into his lap.

He breathed her in, hands roaming precisely where she needed them, warm lips blooming on her skin. "Just a little longer," the elf followed. "I want to remember you... to explore." Then, eyes closing he started to do just that, causing her to mewl and grasp the sheets, his hair, pulling him closer against her.

"Watch it, elf, wouldn't want you poking those beautiful eyes out," Ilva grinned between gasps.

He looked up at her, slowly but powerfully suckling on one of her hardened peaks.

Stars exploded behind her eyes. "Argh! You need some professional help, that's what you need...you..." she trailed off, playfully drawing away only to be pulled back into a steel hold.

_Oh my, I liked that. Yes, I did._

"Stay," he ordered as Ilva ran her fingers through his rich, warm hair. Her nails lightly grazed his scalp, and she delighted in his shudder. She swiftly removed his shirt-

_Oh._

_My._

_Fuck._

The lopsided grin returned. "Something you like?"

"An understatement," Ilva said before they were caught in each other again and more desperately. _Air is overrated anyway. Who needs it when you have this_. Grinning, her mouth slipped from his without warning and then her hands were on his shoulders; her tongue slid straight over his ear.

"Fuck- Ilva!" the blond snapped with a jolt.

"Now that was very unlordly of you."

He was smiling again, patient with her teasing. "This is a perilous path you tread."

"I am positively terrified," her tongue slipped over his inner lobe.

"Nát vára orco..." Fin hissed between his teeth.

_Went into Elfspeak_._ Hot. Why am I surprised?_

She looked back into his face. "I hope that wasn't about my mother."

Glorfindel scoffed, still smiling, his eyes kind and loving.

_Oh, you like my crappy humor. Just admit it, it's Ok._ _We all have our guilty pleasures_.

With that Ilvana resumed her game, nipping at his lips, feeling him everywhere, reveling in the way he moaned into her mouth. She teased and touched and kissed until he was strung as tense as a bow against her. _Just a little longer. If you like torturing me, I can torture you too._

"I said-" Glorfindel suddenly shifted and threw her down on her back, looking at her with blue flames for eyes, so bright and beautiful, his arms come on either side of her head. "-that _you_ are a _dirty_ orc."

"Oh, you know you love me," Ilva cooed but then her eyes widened, realizing the words had escaped her. Ilvana often used the saying as a casual expression but now, it fell strangely between them. They both knew. But it should not appear as though it had to be said. _Mouth to brain connection failure. Crud._

"Ilva..."

"I just meant-" _please don't say it, please don't make anything of it, it's fine, let's get back to sexing each other and forget I said it for now._

What happened next melted her bones. His eyes softened, no lust, nothing else in them other than pure, untethered affection.

"Does it surprise you to hear that you _are_ the love of my life?" he deadpanned, a smile she had never seen on him lighting that perfect face, the look in his eyes bringing her chest close to caving. Ilvana was drowning in a bright, flaming sun, her longing painful against those maddeningly hard hips.

"I-... you-... " _Eloquence at its finest_. But he was so distracting, and his sudden passionate movements took her by surprise.

"I have sought you across worlds, time and space," Fin followed, lifting himself briefly and unzipping his jeans before regaining his position, one hand helping to easily slide everything off completely as the other tangled possessively in a good portion of her hair, keeping her pinned in his hold.

_Woah, Go Glorfindel. Go you lovely beast. Damn this... aches. You're just as desperate for me, I feel it. Come on, do it, just.._.

"And I am never, ever, losing you again," the elf said breathlessly to a positively dazed Ilva, his chest raw and panting against her own, his hand still caught in her hair as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, brought her legs to encircle him.

"Please, just..." Ilva sighed when he pulled her hips to him, eyes on hers as he found her. Like a known path he was now, all these sensations she had enjoyed so recklessly before. She locked her arms around his neck, writhing against him; heard his gasp, and closed her eyes.

"Hey... look at me," Fin asked smiling, and she tried, eyes rolling to the back of her head when he completed her with one fluid motion. His skin, his mouth, his taunting of her were building a dangerous peak to fall from and she surrendered to it all, helplessly clinging to him as they had each other. And he would not stop, setting a rhythm that was killing her, the gold of his hair soft between her fingers, his eyes never straying from her face.

She remembered this. His warmth, being one. Clear rivers and lush forests, stars under black skies. The sun, dancing in her hair through wide, intricately carved windows. The wind against her face, their horses in a gallop across wide fields.

Fair figures in white, witnessing their joined hands atop a lonely hill. A warrior in all his splendor, clad in white and gold. He smiled, and love was in his eyes. "Antan melmenya lenna," came the words, his hands weaving with her own.

"Antan... mel... menya... lenna...," the vision replied in turn. Her light robes shivered in the wind, her hair was fire spun with flowers.

And then they drowned together, and none could tell where either one ended. His movements never ceased, crushing and rebuilding her. Then they soared into the aether, her body arching into his, shattering with the winds. He held her so tightly she fused with him, erratic and sweet, warm light spilling in torrents inside of her; felt his face buried against her neck. Then, it all lessened, becoming a pleasant murmur. She was back in his arms and all Ilvana felt was him, soft against her lips, her neck, her forehead.

"What... was _that_ ?" she asked in the ensuing silence once they both regained a regular heartbeat.

His hand was roaming over her from waist to hip as Ilvana faced him on her side, propped on one elbow. Up and down. "Luv, I believe that was our binding," Fin grinned at her lazily.

"You could have warned me it was going to be so-..."

"Intense?"

"Yes," she cooed, drinking him in. _Not that I'm complaining. And to think I might have missed this. Oh, lordy-lords have mercy, I could get used to this_.

The first light of dawn shone through the windows.

His grin turned haughty. "And have you knowing what to expect? Zero fun in that."

"I hate you."

He brushed a finger over her still reddened lips. "That's not what you said earlier."

_Right, things turned all magick at one point. Did I go into Elfspeak? What did I say?_

_'I give you my love.'_

_Oh..._

He smiled, knowing she remembered.

"But, how?"

"If I am to guess, a renewal of our bond. I wasn't sure what would happen precisely. You have few memories of your previous life, and through our link some of them may have been passed on. The vow is for life, and now things got...

"Reset."

His smile widened.

_That makes sense. I knew what I meant when I said it._

"So what now?"

"Now..." he said, sighing and locking eyes with her, his face turned serious.

_Oh crap, I'm not gonna like this am I._

"We get some breakfast."

She snorted, slapping his arm. "Does toast count as part of the ceremony?"

He caught her wrist, placing a kiss on her pulse point. And then his smile turned impish, displaying those dimples in all their glory. "Only if I eat it off you."

_So fucking hot with that grin and you know it, you bastard._

"We could do what we did last time."

"Which was?"

"Which was," he took her hand and placed it to his chest. His heartbeat quickened her blood. "Taking you to bed for the rest of the day, with a few breaks in between."

_Yes, please. _She pursed her lips, trying and failing to seem unfazed. "Well, I could deal with that." Then her mouth quivered in a smile. "If you can take it."

Her husband scoffed, a knowing glint in his eyes as he reached to pull her closer for a kiss. "Oh I will, wife, I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me for this fast-paced, casual little romance fic. I've written a few (very) Mature companion pieces to this, should you be interested.
> 
> Farewell


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